Rest here, we all are
But we are not all one
Because you are looking at me
With a smirk on your face
With a band across your forehead
And knifes in your eyes
Standing here dumbly
Listening to our great hero
We all love him
And feed off his hands
That he uses to strum his guitar
It’s a filtered crowd
And I’m at the very bottom
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice, nice... I'm always at the bottom! Athena