in your escape
as you jump over the
thorny fence you
land upon a mound
of feces,
as always the
other side is greener
skies bluer
and rivers colder
in your escape against
the horrors of here
you spend and waste so
much time
it would have been easier
and without much hassle
you know the story of the
rope and you could have
all the opportunity to
simply retell it.
the child in all of us
are open hands, the gates of
heavens are options.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem