Salted to be a fake.
Welcome to my world.
Welcome to my hate.
Step into my burning scars.
The tree which grows into nothing.
Inside me.
Rotten roots filled by red.
I am dead.
I never wants to be a tree that sees.
Instead it is stuck with me.
Black my mind to the wind.
Dark are the stars which shades to shine from behind.
Rings of ice, fingered to vanity.
Blistered by my sanity.
Fall into my descend.
Ascent before the blow.
I am crying.
I am dying.
Do you hear.
Can you feel.
Echoes of my call.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
echoes of my call, good write, thanks.