We searched and we killed.
In this Darwin's world.
And in the stubborn genetics of humanity.
We are still the survivals.
As in the verge of extinction.
We're reborn from between the thighs of stone.
The fears and the triumphs that came.
With the discoveries still flow in our blood.
We haunted and we fought.
And in the pinnacle of evolution.
We become the dianosours of today.
We're sick and we're diseased.
And the virus of humanity.
Still lacks the cure.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem