Always bent
On proving things have never changed
Maybe it's just
That the set pieces are rearranged
Even the king himself, bound to the board
Baptized in blood of a thousand-year war
From our fathers to our children
Mistakes add up like pearls on a string
Hands to the sky, a hymn you sing
Which your father sang when days were grim
Mother's silent, always wise
Tangled in prevention of a future demise
Blame the skies, full of lies
A man can only know if he tries
Given no voice, with my hands tied
Jet I have been heard and I have not lied
Set on dusty streets and murky days
Hard to believe, in how many ways
Disappointment seems to change your face
Resplendent of the sky above
Technicolor and crayon on a campaign for love
Days meld into memory and I always forget
The things I abhor, the memories I regret
But no, things stay the same
I will be as empty when I leave
As I was when I came
Feel I no shame?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem