I
Soon I'll be free
From the plastic and misery
Soon I will run
Under the burn bright sun.
II
Chilling and cold air reached inside.
Lungs like wings, soaring above.
A bitter, beautiful, and burning ride.
Faster than a feather, lighter than a dove.
III
Warm and welcoming water, I don't mind.
It is a freedom for too long I have been denied
It's better than being inside this bind
In warm and welcoming water, my leg abides.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem