I wrote this for my special friend Katrina Jacobson before she died
Stained by deciet
Ruined by hate
Abused by man
Wandering the streets
Starting to reek
Alone in the gutters of Manhattan
Father's a glutton
Mother's a drunkard
I see the pain in her eyes
Losing herself as time goes by
Ran away from the hate of a family gone mad
Can no longer tell what's good or bad
Knife in her pocket
Can't stand to dropp it
Too scared to think
Smells like mink
Hiding in a back alley, in her mind
Consumed by hate
It's too late
Too late
Too late to go home
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow...thats very deep...nothing really to say