you looked at me
i stared at you
you could not stand it
you looked away
why don't you stare back
look at me closer
examine my face
you think i'm crazy?
i'd tell you i'm fine
you are no better than me
but you judge my clothes
hated my looks
sneered at my greasy hair
my dirty nails
you think i'm impaired
i am not
this is what i want to be
i am free
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you equate freedom with disorder? and lack of grooming? ...nice shot Loid.