So tell me who bares what right.
The mentally unfit still have it.
A bit of an offsetting habit.
The fleecing of the rabbit.
Is it purpose not known?
Fellow men deathly ill.
Cast aside for the politics will.
Crooks whom it benefits.
But they stand not in applaud but in awe.
A shock because that is there little sister, there little bother.
Thrown upon the city streets with nothing to eat.
No pills, to calm, soothe, sedate.
Crazy does it equate?
All so you can put more profit in your filthy pockets.
Men of mice you ought to be all ashamed.
Instead of calling yourself our leaders as a title to claim.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem