The loud noise of the fist on the pulpit
Cuts through my head
Like a gravel
What the man is saying
Cuts through my soul
Even more.
In the front row is a person
Off in his own world
His stare cuts through mine
Why must I sit here, being
Cut through and through
When I don't know who I am?
I would love to know more about this poem. If you dont mind. Its really....intense. So it peaks my interest: -)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this poem, very interesting, thank you