The Red Spread
© 2012 Malaya Roses
Entangle with three crossed arrows
Doubts were the daggers
About saving my soul
Admitting less than faithless sin
I am dying
Stench smell
Over the red spread blood
A presentiment was not retribution
Three ropes of doubtless sins
Massacre is the prolific accusation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem