There seems some now are far fetched.
Their real selves gone beyond our forest.
They’ve travelled with the wind.
Always the new world is where to rest.
That is what they’ve all day dreamt.
We use them often as woods;
To cook and make our meals;
Daily their heat we want to burn;
Really their feelings we do get burnt.
We cater to suffer as humvee breed.
Would you in this like to born?
Human seeds have grown to trees.
Bent and cut by scary rare species?
No, the torture is from near beings.
They are people nature gave same their own
But treat their fellows as nature disown.
“Life is unfair, ” we often say and pray.
But what of others, we naturally prey?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem