Lend me a remedy
mend what’s left when you pretend to tend to blend two lives
trying to transcend to husbands and to wives
to live happy lives and set out to thrive
while trying to fly and lying about times you’d cry,
climbs you’d try,
lies in eyes,
with no need to fry
trying to escape the inner works of W.I. L.L. – I – am the one
while in your thighs I become less wise.
Lies supply the unwise surprise but it relies on my slow demise.
But I still try… why?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem