rats tails twitching from the wall
wiggling through cracks, on the ground they fall
pushing and squiggling together as a mass
rubbing against the dirty floor like a rash
they push and shove in one direction like a stream
all chasing a collective dream
down a long grey gutter they push
those who pause for a moment are squashed into mush
headless, brainless and sightless they squirm
a million tails on their own like a one celled germ
all along the gutter some tails explode from the awful smell
that of ratty maggots slithering though hell
not one could tell you where the end is or if it even exists
but all crawl on in blind faith that the solution is to persist
here inches one as blindly as the rest
but not trying his hardest to be the best
he does not care if at winning the race he does fail
he has decided that for him its about telling his own tale
he will carry on sliding in his own yet-to-be-found direction
he wont hear when 'your going the wrong way you fool! ' they shout correction
by pushing against the mass he might bump a few heads
and others might even think he should take a lot of meds
he wants to go back to where it all started from
and then look again to make sure it was the only path on which all the others have gone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem