The lightpost lining the street
Doesn't provide a glow bright enough
To maintain a healthy image of myself
For those that pass by.
Their world torn asunder they watched in wonder
As the last of his kind make his trip.
Scrutinizingly they glare, stare, stare, stare
As he fall under the lash of the whip.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem