As I sit Here so very stymied
in a world of wonder and awe....
There behind so remains some
doubts as if the fairness had found
it's call.
I miss the camaraderie of all those
artists in this wonderful, worded art...
Instead I find My friends and
poems are gone and in
Their place is a pain filled heart.
Where are My friends and words
now hath They to unfairly depart? ....
Did they to hitch a ride....
Upon that horse drawn-apple cart?
Instead in Their stay remains
nothing but a fearsome and
loathing bark...
All hatred filled with nothing but
negativity, perhaps
They'll always to park.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem