Our needles,
Pass though,
The threads,
Of fantasy.
Our Fingers,
Tie truth-
Weave into,
Mental tapestry.
The thread,
Blood red,
From veins,
Of imagination.
Fantasy is,
A minds,
Method of,
Retaliation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Really neat piece of poetry. Much enjoyed.