I'm the spy of the century
Contraband set me free
Lost for years on end
Until my services I can lend
Find me where the sun sets south
I will speak the words from your mouth
My name means nothing, and I do not exist
You can't find me on any government list
Tragedy molds the summer of life
And happiness sculpts the form of strife
Its not up to me, but I will try to prevent
The exile of malicious content
Find me where the sand meets the sun
You'll know who I am when the battle is won
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Mr mowell nicely done I like this poem