My little black box that holds my life
a small object inside
no bigger than my fingernail
it knows all of my secrets
and all of my lies
My little black box with the little gold trim
an inside of porcelain veneer
only faulted by a powerful object
with a hole in the middle
stainde with tears of infernal bliss
my little black box
all knowing
all seeing
quiet forever
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem