Within the slopes above, stairs higher
Heavy dirty hands starring to their castles
Swords about to upper
Ive told them not only kill my story
Which has already killed me
so tasty allied others
but others cant kill me
My story has already killed me and then insufflated me.
Which they didnt know when their hands got me and told catch u!
Under the castle and end of the pecks
Damn chubby fingers can never do the shoot Ive wanted to point out
no matter when I had a story
which has killed the shoot in me
And then insufflated me.
They got the all they wanted
And here and now my legs excreted and changing my walk
Winner flats behind me I see them half-mast barely
By the means of my story
What they cant know in their lifetimes
in their premediated murder they can not do all only
my soldier story did that beautifully
And didnt you somebody tell them that story have killed me
And now its insufflating me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem