I am not a poet,
I am a twister of words,
I can turn things like trees,
Into monstrous kill..ers......
I can take things like secrets,
And reveal them in fact,
I can remove you from the system,
Taking you on a journey....not a path
I can fly you to high places,
And take you far down below...
We can go on an adventure,
That will change you, alone.
But what you don't see are the strings that I dangle above your head,
They pull your emotions around and around,
In a whirlwind of frustration,
just keeps pulling you down....
The best part of it all,
Is that I know exactly what I'm doing,
I'm playing a game where I'm always winning,
And your always losing,
Because at the end of my very twisted tale,
I leave you alone,
And headed straight towards........
As empty as it sounds,
And as sick as it feels,
The blood on my hands has no evidence to conceal,
Beacause in all matter of fact,
I've just placed it in your mind,
Where it cannot be acted upon,
Nor can it be defined.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem