your lies are as obvious as your
open wounds
which i do not mind since you
are still
wriggling in pain
your defenses are as red as the
scarlet of blood
dropping from your wrist
and even if i have to give
a portion of my rib
to save you
without you being candid about sorrow
i shall give it
no one has told you that the world loves you
but now
i shall do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem