We grabbed our weapons of choice,
aimed them at the weakest points,
determined to destroy defenses
and undermine any remaining strengths.
Our hearts pounded out a rhythm
founded by ceremonial battle drums.
Our cells were overwhelmed
by adrenaline laced with anger.
We went straight for the jugulars
intent on spilling blood.
We cut as deep as we could go,
back and forth, wound for wound...
But I didn’t feel a thing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem