I've heard it said,
When visiting on foreign shores...
Or making moves on territory,
Not as foreign.
To do what those natives do.
Well...
For some reason,
Demons are always identified...
By a confusion they undertake.
No matter where they are...
Their movements can be traced.
And I 'aint' about to make no demon happy...
No matter where the place.
Or the faces of faked intentions...
I may or may not recognize.
Whether or not from behind smiles they make.
What demons do,
Comes to me as no surprise.
Especially if deceit,
Is awarded to those...
Who praise with pride those tellers of lies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem