The thread that wipes the painful tears,
Available in all patterns fiery and sheer,
The fabric that consoles the ailing heart,
Providing instant relief almost in dart,
The twill that stands in moments of agony,
With those that often feign misogyny,
The strand that relieves congestion,
In moments of pure desolate isolation,
Selfishly discarded when used and abused,
Thrown into oblivion giving lame excuse,
Made guilty for staining the stained hand,
Labeled infectious desecrating worldly trend,
You lie in dustbin condemned and dazed,
Once close companion now fully erased…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You lie in dustbin, good write. I invite you to read my poems and comment.