On this planet, more than twenty million starving,
There is no such thing as time waiting.
When you're gone, the whole world moves on.
While dying, people admit 'They don't belong, '
Or somehow deserved it for being out too far-
'The next city down the road can burn for all I care.'
Everything outside of US turns out not to matter.
We love consuming ourselves:
Setting the fire, spark by spark,
Our houses seemingly alive in the darkness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a truth poem that cares? well said!