I want to be good
But, I can't,
Says man in every land
And I hunt and I kill,
So often, at will
Causing pain and chagrin
Using Evil as thrill,
Causing mistrust and chill,
Bitter footprints in the sand.
Of what nature do we come
That we're still
Such rotten scum,
After millions we have killed?
I cannot understand
That the Hand
That's used to save
Is the Hand
That could someday
Also be used, to kill.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
To me murder is unthinkable and yet it is commonplace in society, I just cannot fathom how one can step into that dimension, you have asked the same question in your poem without actually asking the question....and that is true poetry Sandra!