Seems we always need
a habit
something i should
kick
Always makes me
toc
but never makes
us tic
And have tried too
clique
still don't quite see
the magic
is close enough to spit on
is and
seems make us pretty
sick
In this skin
this thick
Lies a head like
a wick
Like scabs that
itch
how we pick pick
pick
As suspicion wastes
Mynds
like Truth Free's
Thoughts
Cos IT looks like a
diamond
Don't mean IT's not
quartz
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem