Engraved.
As if from birth branded.
With self importance to image it,
Without capability to examine a flaw.
Or a blemish of imperfection at all.
And a mind embedded,
Never to have been connected...
To an understanding that comprehends.
Will eventually leave,
Many finally accepting this to believe.
How one can be so mentally damaged.
Not to know or realize,
The severity of their detachment...
From reality really is!
To be clueless.
Soul-less.
And a heart only that feels,
A going through the motions of emotions.
Not to have but to publicly,
Perform them to create.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem