I’ve toed the line when on parade,
I’ve walked the line of barricades.
I’ve held the line during intense war,
I’ve stood in line, but what for?
I am in line, when told to wait,
I see the line, psychological debate.
I stand in line, identity parade,
Intravenous line, what a mess I’ve made.
The line was fine and I overstepped,
My memories raged as darkness crept.
I am the line.
What can you see?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem