Its a tapeworm, but instead of the contents of my digest
its eating away at my stomach itself
this feeling of m t. is like a mountain
maybe it explains my food craving
or my desire to be chocolate wasted
im always mildly content and never happy to my own complete consent
i probably wouldnt stop you if attempt to contend with what little happiness i have
and annex it to the bitterness
view me not as a nihilist
moreso as a realist
imean this pain really eats me away
its my inspriration for my dream to be attained
call me depressed deem me insane
but what im expiring from is really your pain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem