Life holds no pretense
it is our eyes -the spies-
which mystify us
there is no innocence
only but purple lips
can't hold a book
and in essence
we only have to look
to find 'what'blind spots
how often
we have burned
and timely dotted
our skin with sin
and wrought with thoughts
-think we're so clever-
which would have
never found us
if we didn't urge
them to walk in
we wouldn't have to
purge them to
begin with
...............
getting rid.
01-03-2014 Madrason
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem