a nerve has its own domain
like a territory
when a bone creates a wrong
the nerve begins to run
out of control
an impingement
an erroneous reach out
a right arm screams in pain
stressed out
the mind invents a fabrication
you do not mind it
trace the cause
it's but a nerve, that nerve
that hate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem