Twisted, is what I could be
When I sit back and think the thoughts running through my head.
Twisted, is what I want to be
When I see the killing of you by the hands that are me.
All flock together, birds of a feather
Sick as a society, dictated by a socialist of no confession
Demented, are the one's that 'We' let choose
How we compramise this little thing that we call
'Life'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I agree with you a 100% about our todays society No more respect for people I see that today we are liviing in a sick society