Pathetic in your rage
Anger over pain,
It’s a selfish game,
And you’re losing.
Precarious creature
Revolting, creature,
Your rot wrecks of sin,
See the smoke of death and decay,
You will.
Is there no freedom from your livelihood,
Your pathetic excuse,
For hours turning into days,
Years,
From seeing pain into suffering,
Dreams into despair,
The flames rise to your pulse
Infuriated by your existence,
Your frequent error.
Watch your step
The ground knows
It can sallow you whole.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem