As he sits next to me, comforting me, I think to myself
were is the idiot that was?
the one that beat me and yelled
and cursed....
the painful memories that I bring back through the pain.
'Where have you gone? the mean one? '
he replies with his voice smooth as honey
'such an Idiot never was'
but I can see him. he is in him.
his eyes burn like hells gates, waiting to lash out at me.
but he repeats
'such an idiot never was....'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem