An army without the tools to kill
Move silently across the land.
Length and breadth covered with ease
Not noticed, no one in command,
Numbered in the tens of thousands.
Silently, their numbers dwindle
Replaced by others quite frequently.
They band together unnoticed
Governments try to control with process,
Moving targets hard to deal with.
Without them, the country would not survive
With them, the country struggles,
Just as with Native Americans
They are moved to reservations,
Names are changed to reflect the place.
The process goes on day by day
Replaced by others straight away.
Time is the real enemy
One, to sixty
One, to twenty-four
One, to seven.
One, to one hundred, maybe
On and on the cycle, continues,
Day by day
Week by week
Year by year.
Special occasions celebrated
Where will it end?
Wait for name and number
Queue length changes frequently,
However, the army keeps getting stronger.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem