I make a cut a so clean.
Bring forth a soul of a demon.
Wicked thoughts of what I can do to you.
The rage is building inside.
Looking through blood shot eyes.
Lightning raining down from the sky.
The storm has arrived. let chaos reside.
Like I haven't dealt with enough.
Like I'm not already fed up or mentally done.
Come put your stuff on the pile.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem