This must be a
Member of my mind
A memory of my
Own design.
My memory is where
I reside.
Unnoticed as a
PAUPER in the grime
By chance it would be
Of scant design.
No average disguise
Matching words to words
Old hearts die hard.
Without homes prepared
For discard
Hardly For the trash
But quite disturbed,
Unloads onto the
Barren city streets
Followed by shame
And humbled.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem