Anticipating peculiar thoughts to rupture the habitual routine,
To spark some sort of difference, the abnormal, the obscene.
Thoughts that mankind labels as The Wrong,
As if my reflections are theirs to belong.
They envelope dark beliefs in good morals,
And brainwash you with their enormous arsenal.
They have stolen what is not theirs to possess,
And with each passing day, it is us they suppress.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem