Foul hearsay from forbidden bushes
Put one of my dreams on shock hold
I watched as it gasps for air
Until it brawls no more Like a picture with still eyes
Close the books, it is flat line for me
The fade of optimism rubbed salt on my belly button wound
Im holding back tears trying to be a man
While my mother morns me like im dead
Filthy living this, I muttered to my pillow
In the dark shaking my head
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem