The sky hangs without support,
Likewise the ground with no full stop,
Earth is rich as a book shop,
Shelf's holding you to remain warm,
Borrow shall come with no return,
At this point everything seem
To evolve
Even the great dreamt of a
You turn,
My calendar reads the month called
Disgust,
Many days the page is rich with
Insults,
All thou thought was to give up,
No, I decided to see GOD,
There I was told just to sit up
Now I lick from my delicious stew
Pot.
My sit produces heat as the
Suns kid
These mighty tree isn't a fake
Dream,
I had to sleep and meet my
Zeal without sin
I always wanted to win,
Not on the same compound
With defeat.
So I sing like the pilgrim,
Disease, feast in every community,
I wonder why you smile at my
Deformity.
The night is suitable for atrocities,
Still, I would turn my sky into
Prosperity.
Wake up, with integrity
And collect gifts in size
Of obesity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem