I wash my hands of reality
And give up the chance of survival.
Did they report that I am being?
Never! I did hear, “Ever they declare.”
“They stab in the back and relinquish me;
all my dreams and colourful youth too.”
I give away once I denied.
“Prickle never me thyself test first.
Spines are sharp but I never break faith.”
They heard me and said, “Notify the unfaithful.
Walk over his dreams.
Crush its beauty and leave no flower.
Squash it and let us swallow.”
Camels, merchants no one loved us.
My spikes never let them never stamp anymore.
I declared, “I am existing.”
I am where no one passes.
No one seeks what they need
And I rest where no one knows
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem