I come to trade my life
for a piece of bread
a yard of cloth
a glass of drink
only to satiate my
four days hunger.
I need no love, lest you could
spare me some
for you think am a hoax,
a decoration in the vandalized urban streets.
my life would be of a little boring
if I never hear scolding and screams
on a daily basis;
as I hand you my hand
face upright
the pair of own cochlea
would just hear screech
screeching sound:
heavenly.
I never meant to feel the pain
of acid inside my belly
is it alright to flush it
through my left side hole
I never needed it anyway.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem