Today,
Sitting Between Two Graves,
With in Cemetery Gates,
In the Fog and The Haze.
One was Male,
One closed eyes that I loved,
Both regained wings from the doves,
And returned to 'Above.'
I Hated to see Them go,
Watch the ending of their show,
and Because that Face I loathe,
Had to murder us Both.
Next Day,
Lying Between Two Graves,
With In Cemetery Gates,
Under Fog and The Haze.
Today, the ending of a Tragic Show,
Of That same Face That I Loathe,
In that coffin Dead and Cold,
That Face is Mine, Six Feet Below...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem