the destructive looks inviting
you thought it'll be okay,
to the flesh it's pleasure
but in spirit a decay
happy you are to be
but inside you're not
a song to the world
but the apple will rot
young lustful souls
crave for it more
unconsciously destroyed
and creating a sore
pleasant it is
as you do it in silence
enjoying the feast
yet it was a pestilence
witness yourself
welcomed by shadows
it doesn't matter to you
as far as no one knows
experience the luxury
of the good side of evil
slowly becoming a slave
of your idol, the devil.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem