'Anonymously throwing out a child is unacceptable'
Newslines of another world flood in the window
I wish I could hear them, I wish I could could care
'I came with Daddy' was his virgin plea
But Daddy's vomit clears your sight
'Stork's Cradle' sways from the tree
The train took him to a home made of heat
The lights, father told them to be quiet
and a nurse with a little plastic child
Abondoned and weak, the little boy cries
His name isn't noble, his face isn't round
His tears aren't cosmetic, his pain is real.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem