Wards of the influential do crimes
and slip out by air whistling rhymes.
To trace them, the cops need clues;
if caught, they find them in booze.
If jailed, they rush them to Home, with mimes.
The indignation is thick in the poem. Sons and sons- in- law are the burden of the powerful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It happens all over the world, the wealthy do crimes and don't get punished because their friends will find ways to keep them out of jail in-return the powerful get money.... Its a shame we live in this crazy world. Siya_! !