This poem is a mess
It claimed shads of paper
Drained in pensil and ink
Finished and unfinished
This poem is a mess
This poem is a mess
It victimised toilet paper
Short and long, of all colours
Scribbled, drafted and erased
Pinned on the wall, anywhichway
This poem is a mess
This poem is a mess
It messed up everywhere
Lying on the floor, sholved
In the pockets, every corner
With incomprehensible words,
Misspelt, miswritten, strange
This poem is a mess.
Sunday,12/04/2009,
Huyton, Liverpool, UK
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
but you put it all together so well