It's all about tightening the screw
Pressure builds up
Most die, just die,
Some sustain, sort of selection.
Between the hand and the fearful face
Exists a mind.
Between the touch and the annihilation
Exists a mind.
'Thus the world ends'
Slow but steady outflow
Of blood.
A cold murder
Or a grand plan.
All in mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem