For those who are hurting the most,
That pain can not be very dearly,
Where they come up and stand in lines,
For the only scare they risk in there fatal lives.
Were we come from race, in kills we were not meant to see,
And the memories of shock, that were not hard to miss,
As we been internally beaten, like a raft in a harsh current,
We knew nothing, which a lonely stare, would take us back, to sights we did not need.
Oh how there so free, in must of their kindness,
Oh how I won’t be back, in the land I did not need to see,
Where I’m loved and where I’m towards.
By the death in my own skin, I rash the mist of forgiveness in my eternal end,
Dedicated to Family, Girlfriend, Friends and others that I loved for and what that might end will not be in until that very last speech was in your hearts of my end.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.