Every time I close my eyes; she's there
Corrupted light; from skin to hair
To every curve and inch sweet as honey
I'll lick it off my fingers and do it bluntly
Those lost eyes are beautifully painted but I won't thank the artist
Don't see a personality or soul in you, funny
Because my soul is up for bargain
Choirs sing when I touch you, I feel you but we're not connected.
Connected by connection I have your whole collection
Of empty souls trampled in the dirt
Maybe I love to watch you die, I love to see you hurt
But this is the only way you feel alive and I don't exist; I guess it's all perception
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem