A unique organ
That self wounds
And self heals
Unlike skin
Its color matches blood
It twitches like a snake
Escaping harm
A normal organ
Like any other
Yet it takes the blame
For every harm gone or come
It shoots like a weapon
It rarely misses
It carries the weight of the word
And pushes flavour forward
With it, a human is a projectile
Without it, fuel is futile
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem