A flower almost destroyed at an early age,
Through immense heart ache and pain
Now using poetry to help turn a page
It truly helps to keep me sane.
There is no intent to transfer the pain
My therapy a book
written by me
never thought I'd grasp that hook
Knowing that for me there was no glee
More about me no need to look
for in my book my truth shall be
A child scorned by the west indian hand
A tale of terror had no stand
As my people continued to be grand
Older, wiser and mentally better
caution, my words are truth to the letter
Denial to the truth does not flatter.
The story could have been different
if a few would have seen the apparent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem