As my poems whisper to me,
Like they did never ever before-
In the way one reveals a secret-
to the childhood friend, they speak
more of my silences than my noises within
and the chaos around.
Like a shy lily under the heavy night rain,
Like a gust of humid air carrying the pain
of molestation over a timid girl's teen skin,
Words of silence condense
Into unhappy drops of tear when
The flesh of my nude soul
Melts into a pool of death trap
Full with blood of the earthworm.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem