They live a dead life
They give a dead cry
Though they are seen
Keen in their scream
Weak as they dream
With only a wish
A wish to a life of cream
If only Misery was unloved
Walking on broken bottles
Passing through thorns
Washing in a Blood stream
Running from a crime scene
Into a War field
Asking and given nothing
Watching them Living
Leaving us dying
Misery, Misery, Misery
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i don't know what to say again. I am short of words.