silent muzzles pointed to ground
line with boots; sharp camouflage
checking id including my backpack
eyeing my prominent face from east
i feel dagger inflicting deep inside
i took a breathe and let it subside
there must be a reason i'm treated
i live all my life in this neighborhood
more than most of them; i'm very sure
i blend with crowds; joke with friends
yes i, do my job just like anybody else
glory is theirs; i got paid with shells
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem