if there is no blood over your thorn
u will lose your color
and be like poluted water
source of life, lead to death
so please
prick me
and cheer him up
with red
comeing over my nerves
to the top of you
and drow my pain
away of beauty
to make me sure
that he will like this way
and walk on it every day, maybe
till he step on you
because simply
he can't see you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem