we all have some
kind of prison
made of some kind
bars
each bar is not
an infidel to its duty
to make us think
that inside this prison
something good still
happens
kind hands can be
choking too
when what we want to
do is barred
because justice demands
that kindness
must beget kindness
out there
the real game is waiting
we hold the ball
but we cannot go
and play
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem