All my birds are quited down;
fallen corpses, dirty ground.
Litter the land with a newfound flair
as the sound of your admition ignites the air
And something inside me breaks
and my fingers are frostbitten,
snapping
off
one
by
one
by
one.
You don't decide how I paint myself for battle with the world.
You don't decide what eyes i'll give you
if i give you any at all.
When the lone, frail spine of sanity inside him snaps
who will rescue me?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Reads like the breaking of a person - tragic