These are my thoughts
These are my words
These are the worlds
in which my thoughts live.
Slimy, sloppy, sinking,
Are the textures that make the component of the world I live in.
These are the clothes with which My thoughts are clothed.
Tattered, tauntful, tale to tell,
About the clothes that clothe my thoughts.
The inhabitants of this world I live
Are the surreptitiously conscious loving ones.
They await the certain miss-take of my thought.
They devour my thought on its slightest change to food.
In this world I live,
I live to save my thought from this little devil called tongue.
The measure of the malicious nature of this world I live in is wider than the Atlantic.
See my abysmal ordeal in this abyss?
Who'd help me I want to ask?
Who'd save me I plead within?
Who'd wipe my large tears without facade?
Who'd give me more than sympathy?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem