To be dead
To cut
To bleed
To be put to rest
Made to bits of ash
Released, forgotten in the winds
Replaced with pretty poetry verses
And polished rock
To kill the faceless monsters living inside
Replaced with fake flowers
Pretty poetry verses
And polished rock
To die
And so let the polish face, my name be lost in a sea
And forget every verse
But the first
of my pretty poetry
Let it all slip away
Forget
Forget
I am dead
And I cut to bleed
Put to rest
With polished rock
Forgotten poetry verses
Fake flowers covered in dirt
Put to rest
Forgotten
Endless, beautiful, lovely, sleep
To die is to be free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem