I am and outcast sent to exile,
For my tribe didn't like my ways.
The way i think.
The way i question everything that exist.
They are threatened,
For i am strong in the mind.
Pure brute force is not the way to go.
I'm ahead of my time.
It's time to start my own tribe.
I have my back to the wall.
Stuck between a pack of wolves and a precipice.
I will not lose my ways.
There's not time to be lost.
We will rise,
They will fall.
What do you say? Join me?
We are the future.
No one will be judged.
Haste the day.
We are strong.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well written Lucas. The strength in togetherness can see off the most vicious of any pack. As to the precipice, there always is an edge, mountains are surrounded by them, just like life, we cling on until we find our feet again. You describe the mavorick life extremely well. Better to be an outcast than a sheep, imho. Smiling at you Tai, head hunter! lol