ten million eyes
the letters bloom
red floating thrones
my ache for true
my wasted youth
the sirens mouth
a caddle prod
the sun sets south
we get to breathe
your vapid gift
a wrist to slash
a hit to miss
the funeral bell
the snakeless flag
the statue stands
adorned in drag
and liberty
was never real
pursuit of what
the will to kneel
a king to birth
again, again
repeating steps
inside quicksand
atoning death
with morbid sin
a paper world
made whole again
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem