You speak and dress like an angel,
But the demon in you to handle,
I should be armed with a cudgel,
Who wants to be stuck without a bail.
You are soft only on the surface,
The day I dug deep, lost your grace,
You wouldn’t stay but leave a trace,
All I see in you is a malicious menace.
I am no one to sentence you to hell,
Wish the vulnerable gets to hear a bell,
Wherever required I have a story to tell,
I wish no one suffers the gale of hail.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem