Sometimes I wish I was dusted.
Under a rug!
And not be dedicated...
To observe those medicated.
I wish to speak my mind,
Most times!
To those who mainline.
To escape from the unkindness,
Shown and many find!
But a growing addiction...
Restricts many to shadows.
Bleeding inside secretly.
Believing no one cares for them.
Their hopes,
Desires or their need to dream.
And 'I' find...
My heart just pounds,
When I see the young folks...
Lying cold on the ground.
And 'I' find...
No reason or rhyme,
Why society leaves these young folks to bleed!
No 'I' don't find,
In my mind...
Justification,
For these sickening times.
Justification,
For these human crimes.
Justification,
For these scenes to blind!
No 'I' don't find,
In my mind...
Justification,
For them left behind.
Nor will I find this,
Justified in these times!
No 'I' don't find,
In my mind...
Justification,
For these sickening times.
Justification,
For these human crimes.
Justification,
For these scenes to blind!
No 'I' don't find,
In my mind...
Justification!
Justification!
Justification,
For them left behind.
Nor will I ever,
Justify these crimes!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem