along throngs of lines, the enemy left behind
the frightening aspect of sex on a desk
the enemy wept and wept
the flipped skirt, up, up, it hurt.the worth of her tested
a birth ingested.the infested go away
the preamble sits and plays
all i got to say, is.....
dont babysit i say
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem