Beware the surrounding beasts.
They'll consume you, remain descrete.
Luring you in with misleading lines.
No one will hear your pitiful cries.
Love never existed.
Not for them, never for them.
When you remember your origins, grand.
Their thorns will sever your hands.
And their arms will dig in your back.
Looking for treasures in your spine.
Something corruptible they can find.
All they found was the boiling blood.
Of the monster you have become.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem