a little boy
about the age of three,
stood in a parking lot
and pointed at me
so young, so innocent,
society has taught him,
stained now, drained now,
society has ruined him
full of thoughts and ideas,
only a few are good,
he would save himself
if only he could
blonde hair, blue eyes,
and skin so fair,
if only she knew
his mother's heart would tear
a little boy
about the age of three,
stood in a parking lot
and pointed a gun at me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem