In this world, there are people. And a lot of them at that. All tugging at the shirt tails of acceptance, trying to keep hold of a piece of him. There's a variety of different types of people. Ones who strive for relief. Relief from, whatever it is. And ones who push the others into the dirt. Only hard enough for them to question whether getting back up really is an option. Hold tight guys. Set aside the knife a little longer, see what happens. Because maybe, just maybe, they'll let go. And you might be able to stand again. Not automatically, but gradually. There's an escape route in us all. You just need to grab it, and clench your fists tighter than ever before, and keep holding on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem