Feel my thoughts, tears do not talk.
My heart bleeds to the pounding of senseless sinister onslaught.
Above the voice of silence flows the whispers, die today with goodbye.
Sorry worries do not rely on tomorrow for a teaspoon of sorrow.
Sugar does not sweet honey for one bee to borough,
The throne of his Queen.
Fear is surrendered by what was seen,
The places to where i have been.
Believe to be deceived.
Inside my sanctuary, cold reflects against the darkness.
I am drowning between shattered glass.
Weaken by my inability to listen, tears do cry.
Blood rains, felt pain, simply insane.
Why.
Why.
Hate saluted to the skies, anger inserted to the way i will die.
Chosen.
By my mind.
Signalled to my hand.
Bleeding, wounded, heart torn.
I am the King Of Thorns.
Death Reborn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem