Stick out your neck for rights of the child
You cast by the wayside in the wild
When you contract debt beyond the capacity
You've forgone by virtue of misadventures you won't pity
On Sunday when Jesus questions
Your commitment to missions
Swimming in your ivory tower to sanitize
Moods and goods you aggrandize
When critical choices you won't make
While in futility you partake
To extinguish verity visions
You sink into falsehood fusions
Fastening falsehood to conspicuous consumption circles
Where heresies and fantasies ride bicycles
On which rights of the child die
When books, pencils and crayons cry
For room to thrive
If goodwill at high speed should arrive
In time to rescue the future
If you upgrade your goodwill in nature and texture.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem