There are hidden trap doors,
rug-covered holes
in treacherous floors of deception.
There are arms that seem
open to embraces
but they conceal daggers
beneath loose clothes
and their smiling faces.
There are a myriad of adversaries
taking your stats to enumerate
your most vital weaknesses.
You better learn to measure
your propensity
to sustain wicked blows
and creative abuse:
otherwise, you'll just be another fool
meeting an early demise.
11: 27 PM 7-18-2019
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem