The violence in here is real
Sofa seat mass appeal
Curtains of shame are born
Threat letters turn and torn
I waited not blinking
Too scared of the sun to dive
Oceans have passed away
Under my tortured hive
Guns litter graves and stones
Sold all our souls to bones
Rotting stock catching on
Motion to king take pawn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem