Lifeless, Pale and pallid
painted by ashen carbide
marbled and adorned with gold
but deep inside are ashes and bones
Creepy
and creepier it feels
to see a walking sepulcher
they shout
they wail
their voice
seems from the grave
a façade of their wailing
of their emotional death
soulless
their souls get tired
because of their greediness, their souls expire
souls that give up and don’t want to survive
with their spiritual death
these walking sepulcher
lost and wanted you to fit in with them
in paranoia, that they are a royal king
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem