Wind,
Wind,
Web of lines
Traced by times
That did or said
So prototypically
Inclined
For repeated.
Wound,
Wound,
Leather Bound
To walk the line
Spineless carcass
Chined
My canvas
Covered in thick red
Bloodline
A son can't shine
Fate by devine
And typical
Their fatal
Outline
Coloured in,
Thought benign
Don't fill me
With truths
Or lies
I will not have myself
Designed
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem