No!
I am not berries to pick,
On your visits to the forest.
Nor am I a twig to pluck.
To deleaf and strip of bark.
What I am is flesh.
Deep with emotions.
I've learned I must protect.
Especially when my feelings
Are taken for granted.
And the more I give...
The less respect I get!
No!
I am not berries to pick,
On your visits to the forest.
Nor am I a twig to pluck.
To deleaf and strip of bark.
And this is what you do.
Like many who are clueless.
About that which has life.
Or about those feelings others have too!
'Why are you so sensitive?
Oooow!
Why did you pinch me? '
Isn't that strange?
I didn't feel a thing!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem