He was a junky
f*ck*d up done wrong
Sad sad stoned son of no one
it was bad
He wore it all on his back
Until they took him of that
I seen him just the other night
He held a cardboard sign
Trying to find
A hole so he could lay sick and die
This was his last leap of faith
As a blood clot
Made it his last shot
Frozen till death
Found stark naked
It was sad
He was sick
so he died in it
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem