The words lie in the pit of my stomach,
they like it there.
Being protected, until old enough to leave.
You cannot pry open my mouth
and have a gander,
take in your drills and change the structure
rinse out my thoughts
for the world to see.
This treasure will be locked away
until the bandits leave.
Then I can turn off the alarms
and speak freely with ease.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem