In the alleys,
You hid my body
Inside a metal box
That stretched like a coffin.
You bathed in my blood,
You wore your most
Synthetic despairing face
And you wailed across town.
Maybe this is how it works.
The victims remain silent,
And the castigators,
The assailants,
The heartless beasts
Do what the victims
Should be doing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem