do u know our history
of our cut throats and slit necks
do u no our heritige
bound hands and inoxicated breaths
did u see them gag me
with river weed and lead
did u smell the roses
as they decay in winter wind
do u know my heretage?
why my hands are blood filled and rosen
do you know why
they bleed hearts lives?
do you know my history?
do you know my heritage?
do you know who I am?
They call me child of tears
child of pain
they call me-
rains of bloom.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem