His insides were abortion leftovers,
his mind was full of perverts and killers,
his father undressed him and, in turn, sentanced him.
Drugs were made of diamonds, the safety in numbers failed.
Living in the lie of a god, he compared his sins, and made him think.
His fault lied cheifly within, and without it, his contempt rose.
In all apathy, his empathy grew.Never again did he pray.
The Thorns of Life fell upon him.
And he bleeds for it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem