This fabricated hollow
A cantankerous exploit
Of white-washed figures
The grotesquerie is present
In each darkened corner
As the train traverses
The chagrined path.
This extensive futility
Of guised horrors is humdrum
And rubbish -
We need not a train
And an eerie structure
To scare ourselves.
We just need to look at the mirror,
Pierce through ourselves
And scrutinize how horrible
We are.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem