Me on one,
Him on the other.
Me the coward,
Him the lover.
If you want to wallow
in your mind, so hollow
and empty of all that is good.
Then go on. Go right ahead.
But as you lie there melting into your bed,
I’ll do a Victory Dance with your blood.
No! Stop speaking in evil tongues!
It is the purest air I have in my lungs,
and with that, I will scream you down.
I am bigger than you, better than you,
and if pure air must be turned blue,
I will drive you out of this town.
You both weigh me down.
As I sink in my bog of misery.
I carry you both as boulders,
but the pain gently smoulders,
as I sink right down to my shoulders.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem