You witness your digressions,
And will not admit they actually exist.
You ask for outside protection...
For situations that continue to persist.
You gather sympathy from groups,
To loudly protest your despairing unrest!
And not admitting with an acknowledgement,
You put them there...
So what do you expect?
A magician dressed...
In outfits of holiness?
A dope smoking Pope,
To share with you false hope?
A candycane taste,
To erase a bitterness that aches?
Or stop all traffic,
For a freedom to declare...
Your overbearing heartbreak?
This one thing is very clear...
What has been allowed will not dsappear.
However that anguish got inside your head,
With your approving eyes observing...
Got stuck between your ears.
Got blocked without you stopping it.
And nothing you heard,
Even shouted from rooftops...
You 'still' refuse to hear!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem