More done to do it more.
With years to maneuver,
Threats and fears...
Produced to make,
No one can say...
The production of it,
Has not been less...
Captured well to undo reality.
Incompetently written,
Has been the script.
Yet gone to go unnoticed,
Are any remnants of truth...
Associated to prove,
This reality contructed...
Is evidence of whose truth this is,
Without truth of it produced.
Matters not at all.
To the ones rating this B.S. grade A.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem