fits of rage
envy-
mirror an image
slippers, black with
soot, of injustice
feelings of powerlessness
fear
dancing around
the
truth
it looks you
square
in the
baby browns
wanting much more
than you dare offer
do a jig
or shuffle with the sand
under your feet
it will still
be there
when you wake
nothing leaves forever-
problems hang around
until we resolve them
so-
quit doing a dance
without the proper
music-
the band has
left
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem