Thrice about the cauldron go
and answer me, if it be known.
Untie the words and give them form,
dissect the ingredients of murder's charm.
A new tradition has traction gained,
a tradition of alienated masculine pain.
Where insults demand their due in blood
in schools, in stores, and quiet neighborhoods.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem