Why do I bother
Writing these poems
They can't bring back a dead father
Or build up broken homes
They will never be able
To wipe away a child's tears
Never make a shaken life stable
Or give a dieing mother two more years
They will never set on a shelf
For some one to admire
Or give a pore man wealth
Or douse a blazing fire
They will never comfort
A depressed child
Nor cure an ugly wort
Or make the heat mild
They will never cure cancer
Or beat world hunger
Can never give your heart an answer
Or make someone younger
Well now I will go
And I guess I'll keep writing
Even though I know
It won't stop the fighting
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem