Turning my head as I leave the long line again,
a blockade surrounds us all around,
no bread, no milk, no eggs,
long gas lines, wits on the end,
time to take a long walk into no where,
boarder lines of disrepair,
I go on but for not to much longer,
time to just lay me down,
then to be never again,
Rationing life to despair.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem