Evil involves the vulgar date between opponents upon gears for shreds.
Veterans soon believe that filth is a healthy option.
Farmers must dig up the graves within reach of survival.
It's no longer a passing- the leaking heavens burn in glitter, like tasteless ice.
Class remains such a loss to personal work.
Beauty is in the eye of a mob until everything gets consumed.
Then, our view is less and general looks hurt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem