I had a dream of sheeps across a field of green.
I tried to run but the grass held my feet down.
Weeving into my flesh like a thread into a crest.
The sheeps spoke to me with a ominous vibe.
Repent repent for your color is wrong.
Repent repent for your beliefs are not our own.
Hold your tongue until you speak what we deem fit.
I had a dream of sheeps across a field of green
And I watched as they stump down what isnt understanding to them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
color is wrong, good one