Grim Poem by Marian Evans
Grim
Would it be fair to discriminate?
Everybody deserves it, some have hope.
Why should every soul wait its turn
When the lottery proves a solidifying factor
In such belief in something more?
No. He must reap from field of different season.
His scythe pulls down what is willed,
And we hope that we are close enough to harvest
And that we fell upon fertile soil
Or cycled though trials of rich loam.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 3:06:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
