In training class, al Qaeda taught
Me, a terrorist wannabe,
That the most preferred bombing plot
Should involve airplane crash debris.
I was too timid to ask why.
Rumor has it bin Laden once,
As a kid and afraid to fly,
Saw a plane do aerial stunts,
And swore that plane was mocking him.
So they're prime targets of his wrath.
My planned attack took a turn grim,
When I was killed by travel math.
I was on my way to the plane,
When my car got hit by a train.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem