The trees of vine is divine a milestone in memory lane
Marking a pregnant head full of declining hurt
Eat of the love you can before the plate gets whipped away, for the next time you taste it, its time to fast
Warm white liquid relieves the pain until next time so suffer no more and release the blood
Trailed by life, found guilty of existing for the past
Feelings of anger and hate torment the mind
No more!
The battle has been lost for the hundredth time this day
Take the one way ticket and unite with the others with the happiness of the earth
Act now and benefit the pleasure
Peace below
The worms are your only friends now
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem