Life is a mirage a big battle between personality and reality.
You can call it an excuse, but the fact is, as a young black man I’ve been cased out of society.
No longer a slave, now call me an untaught prodigy.
If my elders don’t share their experiences of life,
how can I handle bad situations more logically?
The answer would solve the question of why so much Black Flesh decays periodically.
Blood drip from the gable of the judge. It’s all a big game of monopoly.
Even if you can visualize that Life is mirage you will be victorious in the war between personality and reality
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem