Oh, how rich!
Another strongly worded
letter from your
cheap pen. Even on
paper you now sound weak.
Your common utterances
cannot even gather
sticks and stones
with which to hurt
me anymore.
It was your cheating,
no good, son of a gun
heart that fired
that first shot. I bled
until I was numb.
Funny, I bought a
rag doll yesterday.
I stab pins into
it all day.
I named
it after
you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Whoa! ! ! The numb pain that seeks vengeance. Power yet suffering. You really deserve a hug. Great write.