She was just walking down the street.
Why did you stop her?
Was it because of your intellect?
Her big baggy black sweatshirt?
Her mud caked shoes?
Her walk?
Her blasting music?
You didn't need to block her path.
Ask her questions.
Tackle her.
What's wrong with you?
She doesn't have a bomb.
But her sweatshirt is already ripped open.
Here's to your perfect weapon.
Oh my! I hope this did not happen to you but then it should not happen to anyone. We live is a sad world filled with all kinds of bigotry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The thoughts expressed with major concern....