With words and words and words
I'm cut and splayed and torn
Mouths of hungry predators
Drip with blood from night till morn
Ivories stained by my oil
Tongues a crimson deep
Eyes that only cry for more
Smiling as they weep
Open now with no defence
A playground for the edge of tongue
Fillet the fragile reality
I built from piles of dung
These attacks they change a man
A death is surely done
And is born a coarser soul
Each time a battles won
Words and I were enemies
But we have had our days
We've conspired to cauterize
And set the heart ablaze
Now these words, I harbor them
And keep them for a muse
Records of a past that stings
But no longer is a bruise
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
each time we won battle, good write, I invite you to read my poems and comment.