I walk the world as a man with multiple scars
Wounds that can open at the slightest touch
Ones that will never heal
I carry a burden known to many
And to a select few
Who would be willing to take me in
Who could lift this burden
Who could give relief to the weary
I walk the world in search for a handout
Just to touch to feel what it is to be human
And not like an item, but a person
Even I look at the scars I carry
And my looks are all with disgust
If I don’t who in this world could possibly tell
Me they love me?
The ones who touch me with salt
Stare at my scars only to be sickened
Or maybe the ones who placed this burden
Upon me
Who can I trust with a world slightly askew
Who could offer me a safe haven
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem