It Is Killing Poem by Nassy Fesharaki
It Is Killing
It is killing
Sitting with a bald man, with high rank
He's funny; sort of dumb, handicapped
(You speak; he is busy reading a map.)
It is killing
You in need; and the key with madman
Complains of a pain is bubble-stagnant
(Unaware; he is bat, the baby vampire)
It is killing
Going to an office; feeling some slogan
Well-written on a wall, in a sharp black
'The home to the Legos; pens on pads'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 11:49:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
