...eerie sounds echo
through the nostrils
and the esophagus is cracked
like old parchment
body-aches no longer matter
for pain is like a vial of hope
as the mind crawls into every
nook and cranny
of the tortured walls
splatter of blood
smells of anger
hate and disgust
worse than a wretched stomach
draping the eyes to know no remorse
what manner of God
must I hold in my sleep
to be witness of this spectacle
before my eyes
are closed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem