In thy own begining I belong to sorrow.
Common Is the fate of poverty which leave tommorrow.
I never learn to cry it came along with the ride.
In the wind there life passing you by.
What I a sigh but not a relief.
Another child die born to these streets.
I do write what I see the wiegh of tragedies sink me deep.
What so unique is the way people change underneath.
I reach so far for a hand but never even touch a finger.
This is love when hate seem to linger.
No one I believe no one want to care about our children.
There enough pain but never a simple healing.
Time is revealing this world is past it due date.
How much more can you take.
One word I say care but no one wants to hear.
We can climb the highest moutain.
But when will we discover love thru all the midst of these tears.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem