It starts of well, a whole roll of cotton
fresh white innocents unburdened with strain
Then little by little, the white becomes blotched
stained with the waste of daily existence
soon the heavy cotton, crisp and brimming
becomes a shadow of its former self
Each square of innocence's sullied and smeared
leaving nothing left but a cardboard shell
as fresh dreams and hope have all been flushed
So life, like toilet paper, leaves you to rot
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is brilliant, Kevin. I can read this verse as either comedy or tragedy. Either way, it does explain reality.