Closed mouths give way to stale breath
abandoned homes will welcome decay
Deppressive minds, they crave death
unused clothes are eaten away
Extreme precision usualy fails
the nerves like to betray
Lust leaves behind putrid trails
following you through each day
Uneaten food is the curse of the poor
Our hunger for God is an unopened door
not enough patience or will did we store
To die to ourselves is to live even more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem