everywhere i go
people ask me the same thing
are you really
for a while i did'nt understand
but now i know
sometimes i find myself asking
am i reall
for a long time i did'nt want to be
i tried so much to change
i had to accept it
i am different from everybody else
really i am
He who makes with the same clay but different faces? Yonela is a brave soldier of that same clay!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Indeed, everyone born under the sun is unique. I feel the world is peculiarly shunning and wishing this uniqueness. Your poem finely captures this experiential slice of life in simple words.