Who is it that lives,
Excusing accusations made towards them.
And frequently done,
By those remaining anonymous.
The least to be trusted.
But damaged integrities are accepted.
With them left to leave.
People everyday,
Have established relationships destroyed.
By someone they have neither known.
Or met.
And yet,
Seconds spent using the internet...
Whatever is suggested,
Spreads like an epidemic.
Manifested to infest.
Few use their minds anymore to think.
Or find it important.
To link proof with truth and evidence.
Facts have become,
Who ever decides them to be.
And those accused randomly.
Have only one choice.
Get up early in the morning.
Take a long walk into the woods.
Strip butt naked.
And begin to scream.
Doing this,
Is as close as one can get...
To begin to feel stress free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem