i saw the footage.
the man was deranged.
he painted his
head
all black,
and red.
wearing his
inner madness.
i watched him head south,
revolver in mouth,
with morbid curiosity.
at moments, felt i understood
and in the end
was still confused.
driving home,
my stomach of knots...
i've never felt so
sickened.
this wicked world
of lights and sound,
what a place
to live in.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem