This room just smells of illness
So take me back to the start,
These walls are made of the elastic
That hold you and I apart.
Of sweat, and grease and leaking pores,
I don't really care to know,
My fingers are elongated now
But I didn't see them grow.
This carpet is stenched in heat molecules;
Don't try to hold me back,
The aches and breaks of life's miscarriage
Start to venture back.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem