Whom you told your paradox
Quiet certain your pain
Derives from that source
Whom you believed to hold your feet
While on air flying for beauty
Quiet certain your fall was destined
Whom loved you to bleed you bold
Certainly pleasing passion
Would be fulfilled
And your wound
'll guide you
To be written to become rotten!
Pranab k c
22/02/2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To be written to become rotten. Thanks for sharing this poem with us. Sylva.