The delete button
in our minds
is the only true enemy
of creation
this sensation
that what we do
doesn't pass muster
is all a part of a whole great cluster
of lies we tell ourselves
fear not, my valiant knight
there's fight
yet
in these old bones
stretch your fingers awhile
then let rip
all caution aside
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem