Many have chosen to acknowledge,
Their blemishes and flaws.
With an exposure,
That does not camouflage...
In broad daylight.
They are happy to be themselves.
Others uptight about appearances made,
Without showing themselves in full masquerade...
Even try to call themselves a performance of art.
Alone as they parade in shades of darkness,
In costume selected for tomorrow's charade.
Never happy to be themselves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem