Who broke the piggybank?
Well...
I would suggest,
Those with the crumbs on their mouths...
Or the ones standing over there,
Licking their greasy fingers.
And I would deduce from my reasoning process,
That the ones with their hands out like cups.
With a living they do daily on the streets...
As if to re-enact,
Scenes from ever present poverty...
Would be the last ones I'd accuse to being suspects.
But then again,
You are the one who claims...
A seeking of evidence without a labelling of blame,
Is needed to determine with proof who is at fault.
Without the benefit of doubt to cross your mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem