Was it meant to be so complex tough
Or merely a battle ground of emotions
Both ends tires no difference so rough
Wrath and insanity to denote passions.
Was it meant to hurt the fregile hearts
Or merely a pledge deceitfully crafted
Both deeds so ablaze like flame heats
The burns and sores genuinly drafted.
Was it meant to inflict this much pain
Or merely a cut deeply across pulses
Both verge seems fatal with the strain
Minds no doubt twitching alike ulcers.
Was it meant to deprive each amour
Or merely a dirge of intmacy function
Both spells the rinsed felttip enamour
Mine heart bled from the faulty action.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem