Why must we see blood
And face the integuity of seeing more
In the papers
In the news
Hear it on the radio
Why must we bear the fact that death is at our
Front door.
Step out and get killed
Get run over
Or be stabbed in the middle of the day
Or be hit by an abusive one
And lie motionless upon solid ground
Death is at hand
And those who do
they pay the penalty
Put them in prison for what they do
I end right here
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem