And of reasons I can't explain
Of explanations I can't detail
What seems to make most sense during fallen rain
has now become something weak and frail
I am a man of spoken beauty
In my eyes, grammer don't matter
Beauty can be spellt wrong it still is the same word
Does a artist start over when they use the wrong paint?
Does a songbird wait to pluck the right cord?
Does anyone have right to copyright my heart and pain?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem