why i write too you about poetry
and
your mother
when she says
that because
why you can't read mine.
and you hear them
muffled sobs
as they are more than that
but too you
and you
try to ask her
you try to explain to her
that when you hear it, them it just brings
back those memories of before
and sliding the knife back into the wooden holder
back in to either side
and always missing fresh cuts
'dad' never had a clue
how many times, you moved
just to avoid
your getting a black eye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Is it poetry I enjoyed reading this one keep it up