Crawling from the back to get to the front
Slowly, narrowly, hoping to get soft.
The street is a blazing fire
tiled with the sharpest thorn
and what will a bare feet do!
Other than keep marching on.
Who knows what the tide would bring!
Who knows how many times we'll keep falling!
But no matter the battle
we always reload, double back
and hold on to our course
'Never to despise the days of our little beginning'
Our motto and our creed.
We chose to shed many tears at night
so we can smile beautiful when dawn lit.
Gold is not always golden-
that's why
-you need a street receipt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem