I still smoke because my parents did,
Are we not what they are?
Those commercials promoting coolness,
Thanks Marlboro man, camel and Lucky strike.
My grandmother and grandfather owned tobacco farms,
Children did and still do money is.
Leaves as wide as the face of a child and their need
Of school being to tired most drop out.
The morning dew on the leaves, full of nicotine,
Absorbed by their skin called green leaf sickness.
Neurology in the still developing child the need for money
Just to survive.
Tobacco Field owners did as a child, Work in the fields,
That their families still own.
Hidden beneath the great green umbrella of leaves,
From view are the thousands of children, that now you have
Been made aware of.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem