Shakeil died too early
The papers, Internet, radios and TVs
All ugly, dishonest and in show
They write; talk
It’s their job “Shakeil died”
Superficial with finger
They steer water with, the oil leak
(Attractive, colorful, meaningless)
No one sees into depth
What is oil; and water?
Jamaican; boy was eight
In States his mother, as a maid
Father in Canada, Brampton
Laborer
Little boy
Back at home
Lived with his Grandma
Dad worked hard
Brought son
How could he mean to kill?
Look my friends, into depth
There’s something, or there are
Problems; poverty, training, faithfulness
Son stole, it was shame
The why, how is question
No one sees, no one writes
Media, money game
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem