He looked
like a nasty rumour
of
himself
like a parenthesis
( )
with nothing in it
like a lie
that wasn't fooling anyone
like a ghost
refusing to believe
it was dead
like a full stop
searching for
the end of a never ending
sentence
that hadn't even been
written....yet..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is a strange one Donall, it makes me wonder who you are writing about? ? ? There is more to this one I feel....... Ruthie