We, the spawns of hell have no choice.
We roam this barren land,
in seek of a way back.
This filth-strewn land,
with rotting desertion,
is the challenge between us and our joyful damnation,
and fate had it that,
in the selected few,
there lie portals,
Doors to the life we left,
And the life we still yearn for.
So...
...be still mortal,
and let I enter thee,
and possess thy meagre bag of flesh,
for in it,
there might be a way back home.
O.M Hajane
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem