Enigma of time
Bears no dilemma to hide,
I cry beside the dead candles
Eye.
Have ingested lots of
Sinister cry,
Am rich with a rotten
Livers wife.
These continue to make me
Shiver,
Even as I laugh with blisters.
How would my community
Be delivered in this shapeless
Craft.
I pack bread for
Many heads into
One pocket,
Just as a paragraph
Pregnant with empty
Prospect.
This funny, cause
I call it progress,
In retrogressive process.
All I address are corrupt
Heads wearing rotten chest,
Even during sabbath events
Replica
Of me there head,
With no genuine asset.
I believe in judgment
As an moment,
Still, I wonder how
I feed on nonsense
During sunset.
Am wet in tears
As I confess,
My knees meet the earth
As my hands hang in
The air.
All must carry each
Cross for
Their offense,
I nod to this comment.
I pray for mercy
Cause I just confessed.
How will the past
Never torment?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem