The Clincher
I clinch roots that graze your soul
I pull blood over blood tucking myself beneath you
Before the ground takes us
I'm trying to avoid your glances
As cement greets us with infamous smiles
I'm loving you with every ounce of blood
Sweat and tears
They spill for you when you arise and open your eyes
You found a figure in the midst
A figure that pillowed your fall
A figure that never shedded hate
None at all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem