You inflict
pin with pleasure
flesh and blood
you make known
the broken bone
you bellow
with the silent scream
destroy the mocking bird
and kill its dream
a dark vision
behind your eyes
a million lies
are your disguise
your mind imprisoned
by its doubt and fear
the echo of illusion
is all that you hear
you keep coming back
to visit the pain
as familiar
as April rain!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem