Turning a blind eye and a deaf ear,
Never sticking your neck out of fear.
Preferring to wait always inside,
Under the covers is a perfect place to hide.
Waiting for someone else to magically appear,
And tell you that the coast is all clear.
Never knowing the instinct to fight,
Always busy catching the next flight.
A keen self-preservationist at heart,
watches from a safe distance as the world falls apart.
(c) 2016 Copyright Elena Plotkin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem