Disciplined disciples
beckon to commands
fustrated, exhausted
trying to meet demands.
Gazed eyes
lost souls
frequent corner sides
bowing to honkers
on patrol in a line.
Empty stomachs
paled skin
compass routes
another night begins.
Ten by ten rooms
housing thirty
depressant bodies
dropping like flies
wheeled on a silver platter
CHILLED.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem