As man looks at the sky,
He can realize his tricks and lies;
He performs sins, closing his eyes;
He remains callous to see others die,
No body is real and dear in these pink files.
He utters the words hateful and painful;
And enjoys the sad reactions in their roll,
And take away the innocence off their soul,
And laugh at others kneeling before his toll,
That tears them apart, we tell lies as truthful
From the people we stare up for help to,
But come across at that shakes the faith so,
If, be bothered about such realism, they drug you;
But in realism, in the end, all things must go;
Just gaze as world bleeds, stare it go down to knees, low.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem