We kiss like paper scissors
Wear our hair in little curls,
We were born of silence
When dead men told their tales.
There are secrets in our laughter
Cracks run through despair,
We are but the pieces
We multiply, we swell.
Pushed beyond the guidelines
With liberty we're loose
Lost in paper silence
Our necks inside the noose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem