Hampsters I many had and they circled around and round
on that wheel in the cage on my table,
dear the heavy window that covered mothers old yellow drapes.
Exposing the picture the once happy proud face and
my sister, always smiling,
running around in her panties, saying I want us all.
We are to be happy, come hold me, 'happy you are,
please come now and hold me!
Better than bright and she was neat and trim, always right.
It is better to be happy and when held, since if you.
Woe unto me, my poor brother and others, poor fish.
Me wanting to be happy, caught at it two or three times a
day and yelling at me to be come here more, than happy.
Why can't I, pouting when I coming over there, dare the smile?
And then she would smile and show it to me.
Mercy is how, and it was the widest those lips
and being full such those red lips and her smile,
close up in my face that I, ever did see.
One day the hampster stood up on it's hind legs up and died,
one by one, then all of them,
some left on their sides, all showing their pink short tails,
and all but one had their eyes kind of glazed shut but wide open.
That is when my sister after my mother got home,
went and she threw them all out to the cat.
There on the dirt packed floor
and we watched as my father moving to fast,
stepped on the cat,
mercy was it, watching the smile it was like she, killed me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.