They cut off my fingers
they cut of my toes
They never relented
and cut off my nose.
They shortened my leg
and took off a foot.
And strapped up my elbows
so that I couldent shoot.
They took out my blood
and gave me ten pints more.
Then they straitened my back
so I could lie on the floor.
They just about took
everything in my life
But they forgot all my pens
so I started to write.
I wrote poems of heroins
and dogs who have more.
And strange lonely people
who knock on my door.
I wrote of the times
when I used to run.
And chase all the girls
and have lots of fun.
But now I am lost
in this lonely bed
I write with the pen in my mouth.
As they took my lead.
So please just remember
I am a poet at heart.
As I struggle to write
as the ink just wont start.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem