We are feared not,
by our own
by the god
by our religion
Plants which are bent
at the beginning will
grow at the same angel
Our fears are plants
bent at the beginning
we all are feared of
standing straight
it is not god fears us
it is not religion fears us
it is the one who wrongly
interpreted made us to
scare by our own vision
He had programmed you to
live in a world of delusion
of his terms and conditions
The Virtue of reality
The Virtue of being yourself
Is Buried alive
Is bent at the very beginning
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem