My Voice
Hey, what happened?
I haven't a fecking clue.
Well, you'd better
Get a hold of it,
Before it gets a hold on you.
I still have my mind,
The lump came in benign,
I'm not always blind,
My organs aren't on line.
I haven't been committed,
Though I really don't know why.
I'm not in a cell,
Or queued heading to hell.
You haven't got a clue?
I know what to do.
I'll get a hold on it
When I've got a hold on you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem