Whenever the crystal blood
of a wounded emotion,
erupts from the human soul
through their glistening balls,
instead of the bitterness of the pains
it tells a lie with an oceanic taste.
It’s because, it hurts to know
Nobody really cares.
So it disguises in good flavour.
'Cause you can never tell,
when the finger of a friendly foe
might steal a drop for their tongue.
So it disguises to bemuse or confuse
never to know the differences
when you shed
a smiling tears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem