i will pull meat,
between my teeth
ashes will or wont
reside under my guise
to say hello, to not say hello
that sometimes
that sometimes,
says it all
what an abandoned headband
seems
those contrasting colours,
shout like men in fits and
without means
we call colour,
wish it too stay there
Blue for eye
Brown for hair,
stay there for an ever
a single hair on the bed
a shot star
Damian Mac
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem