Our pasts lay out before us.
What trickery is this?
Are we propelled backward with only the illusion of moving forward?
I have no answer.
Were you really the monster you professed yourself to be?
What sleight of hand made you appear so beautiful?
A beautiful monster...
I have no explanation.
Where is that man who I trusted to not leave me without goodbye?
He disappeared like a wisp of smoke from the magicians wand.
I am amazed even in my own despair.
I cannot explain it.
I cannot fathom it.
This is sorcery, the devils work...
black magick from the dead mans hand.
I need a shaman, a wiccan goddess, a druid priest to wash away your stain from my heart.
It is too vile for God to touch.
I have no redemption
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem