A Canary like heart, ever so free to fly free and flutter...
Away in the heart or brain of yet someone, other.
How yet may I retell that olden tale? ...
Is or was it stale? I tell you well, it does so swell.
Swells in the river of screams, over flowing in streams and schemes...
Bustling out of the dam of the damned.
All so pinioned slammed...
Always aware of it's listless squalor.
Makes me wish to always forever to holler....
Off my head.
'Make me dead'....
Last, that I said.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem