My body, a tool,
a sharp, rigid thing
a soft, flexible thing
digging, pounding, twisting,
turning, turning
turning, stretching,
drilling, and
turning, turning.
My body, a tool,
and I use it. Oh,
yes, I will admit it.
I open and close
like a flower.
I consume.
I am consumed.
My body, a tool,
a thing I despise.
I break, I ache.
A public display,
my private dismay.
I use, I am used.
I abuse, I am abused.
My body, a tool,
turning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem