The same old hugs and
Kisses fly like arrows and deflect
Off of hearts made of stone.
While flames, framed by fake marble,
Feverishly dance their same old
Dance on logs that cannot burn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i liked this alot, fakeness cannot truly ever live, short and straight to the heart, like a poem should be, awsome work. ben