Guess it gets you
really strung out
you must feel all
empty and wrung out
those seeds of doubt
have killed the best
and you my friend
will you join the rest
sure now suspicions
snarling turn to hound
and aware of the frailty
of this cold cold ground
still say a prayer
and kiss your brother
hoping there are things
he will never discover
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem