I present to you myself as a challenge,
As I drink your water, as you think up for me some kind of plan,
Don`t you really want to know who I am?
Really am trying to change and get somewhere
But you remind me of my past, I`m trying to tell you, who I am
Sitting here, and I am still black and blue, bruised inside,
There is nothing here I want to hide.
Can I swallow your skills from out of your book?
It will only take a second, like a pill, can I take a look.
I have just hung my washing out to dry
But it`s still wet, and I know that your not about to let me forget
I already know ther is no quick drying solution
I wait for the wind to pass me by
But you still act as my prosecution
I decline to agree as you raise your voice,
That there is nothing you can do for me
And now as I accelerate in attitude
Sending myself higher in altitude
Not really wanting to descend
Standing here am a open book,
You only want to read in-between my lines
With your stamped approval and a wry smile
we will send for you again, in six months time.
Gerard Taylor
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem