Creepin' up behind ya'
They put a gun to your head
"Give me your wallet
Or you're as good as dead."
How could it be so
For the worlds such a beauty
But people sell their soul
In a makeshift tribal treaty
This is the mentality
Around the streets
People want to harm you
For some green paper treats.
C. Vergara
10.26.2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem