Red lines, on my work,
blood upon the printed page,
I try so hard to get everything,
done to perfection,
but I am not perfect,
so, neither are you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Actually, I'm a believer that no one is perfect. I believe human perfection doesn't exist. I like it this way! : -) A nice write!