Hangman Poem by Darlan M Cunha
Hangman
Playing the hangman is losing, it's bad luck
this game of loss and damage, with no shortcut.
Imagine your tropical heart hanging
on the increasingly withered tree of desires
and the achievements already made,
the gallows ready for your torture of not being.
Look again at the horizontal and the vertical,
the lines and curves with which to build
or it destroys itself one day, a lifetime.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/3/2025 1:20:00 AM # 1.0.0
