Mean Poem by Dereck Gibbs
Mean
Nonchalant composure
Carefree words
A scythe, that’s his tongue
Decapitating your pride
Heads get bowed
Voices are lowered
A whip of insults
Ripping away your self esteem
Faces get downturned
Smiles turn to frowns
Sandpaper speech
Rubs your confidence raw
Does he regret?
Does he lament?
Does his heart want to repent?
That itself would be a blessed event
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 7:45:38 PM # 1.0.0.1119
