Bad poetry makes me ugly:
Look, each line, a cliche
Each blemish, a simile;
My smile grows more bitingly smug
With each overzealous superlative.
My raccoon eyes are ringed
By metaphorical self delusions,
Badly performing alliteration-
All improvisations of incompetence;
And then the clash of symbol, deranges all thought.
Choose only the wound that is in your heart
That you would earnestly enlarge upon,
Steadfastly ignoring all the others.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem