I can come to terms with beatings
But not with the shame
The catalyst, long forgotten reasons
Unsteady hand: dip a feather deep
To tell you that I am okay
With each remark each smirk
My immunity grows
The streets become louder
And the door lies ajar
I have nowhere to stay afar
But lost in this crescendo
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem