Thiers are the look of a Child that got caught
capitalism at it's worst, I can't breath.
Broken necks I must scream, I must scream then I'm gone,
to never come back, I've no voice.
Statements some made all have seen and they've heard,
please Dear God, I'll be a changed man,
save me from them, you have seen at the end of my life.
Granted some are blessed with x - ray vision,
I can see a small knife the rest can't.
The reason I toppled across the small wall, hear the crack,
of my neck and or spine from the top some fall.
Giving in to the phobia of Racism, I'm dressed in dark blue
and you're not.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem