The beast’s cry, laughs of his pain,
We wonder why, he won’t refrain.
For one who’s blinded, bitter wealth,
If love is sickness, what is health?
Where is feeling? Between the cracks,
Intend to get? You’ll break your backs.
Untimely end? A sombre sin,
Tis a game, - cannot win.
For he is anger, addiction, greed,
Oh why we ever feel the need?
You can abide, means all are lost,
Or stand and fight, - screw the cost.
So gaze into, our blissful skies,
Or do so through, unopened eyes.
Whatever pleasures us to seek,
When triumphant fate, is ever bleak.
-JS
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Ah, here it is, once more: Wow, incredible. I love this. I sincerely thank you for the invitation to read this. 'If love is sickness, what is health? ' My favourite line here, beautiful work. I'll be keeping an eye on your works, keep on writing. Keep this one close. ;)