What a skin!
Full of unprecedented
glows, like that of his kin.
But now disfigured on
the seat of others atmosphere.
None!
no more fun, but gun
no more life, but strife
no more peace, but kills
life
gun
kills
all works for one!
But rise again, oh skin
retrieve thy glorious fins.
Re-point the gun
and make of them fun.
C.2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks for the encouragement friend.