Some angel dust
But much too much
Devil rust,
Us,
Capable of creating
The greatest works
Of Art
And destroying it All
In a twinkle
Of an eye,
In Wars,
That never,
Should exist
Nor be a must.
In fratricide Wars
We kill millions!
But will, heroically
Try to save,
The suicidal
Or the fire victim,
A living paradox!
We, Us
Gift or swindle?
An ever spinning
Top,
Always ready, for
Its nerves and sanity
To POP!
That can't be trusted
And whose violence
And swindles
Never STOP!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem