the skin swells
the veins rush
the wound red
just as blush
the scab covers
yet a bruise around
the jitters there
the chills found
the scar left
a memoire designed
i'm supposed to hate the result
but instead i love what I've left behind
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Accurate presentation to what so many feel. The poem moves so fast, taking it's thoughtful pause with the longer lines at the end.