Standing upon a dream carcass
Who holds my identity
Since I am no longer me?
Under my feet
Bloody, crimson-colored muscle glitters under the red sun
And where once was a beating heart and a living body
Naught remains but a pile of smoking flesh and bones
And standing there
A maniacal laugh escapes me.
Who am I?
I am but a ruin of what I once was.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem