Journalism outcast.
yup, that's me.
To my left a group of 5,
to my right a group of 3.
My attempt at conversation.....
a BUST.
My search for happiness...
a MUST.
Setting myself up for failure,
UNAVOIDABLE.
My desire for someone to confide in,
UNCONTROLLABLE.
I try to speak up,
I am ignored.
She sits, says nothing...
and she is adored.
So is my way of life,
a journalism outcast.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem