Withered egos like birds called down by voices of the rivers.
When time began to let everyone play their role of their existence.
The lofty birds who surfed the clouds,
Now have beaks dipped in streams
Streams which yesterday they peed on as they flew.
It's a full circle, all roads lead to home, Rome.
Night beautifies the shadows,
Light beautifies the sight
What glitters got the world addicted
The darkened is a curse that is taught
Like a sheep so black slaughtered against its will
With a glued mouth to deny it telling its own story
Now, it is trapped within prayers that wither
Like a god who became prisoner of fear
Make ups covering tracks of fallen tears
Fake smiles blanketing endless pain
Strong physiques with broke souls
All wrapped in wonderfully wooden tuxedos
Eating what feed the sight and kill stomachs
It's a convincing game of racers towards silvers
Wear a stunting smile attract the nickels
And yet, We forget
That it is a soul that needs a surgery
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem