Tortured soul
wrung by the hands of thought.
cut with blades of sharp happiness.
Tasting blood in your mouth
while feeling the joy slice through you
Cruel words ricochet.
Whistle, past you.
Carving holes
to drain the sadness
leaving pools of dogma
at your feet.
For being such
a tortured soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem