Some are on this crusade to give themselves and their children a unfair advantage.
Creating these rifts.
I'm here to tell you I won't allow that.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
Their is still enough breath in this body.
No I won't conform to the conformity.
Mindless slaves lining up for another taste.
With an icicle in my hand I will make the rounds with a bunch of hand shakes.
Cold isn't it, but it is exactly the way I feel.
When somebody is trying to steal a society for years and generations.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem