You say your from here but your not.
It sure isn't love that is killing U.S.
sadly this you all know.
They must go-go they must but
you are not feeling this much I know.
Even though your not black or white
being poor
in the ghetto quite near you are there.
Unable to tap out there is fear.
When the guns are all gone what of theirs?
Autumn comes there is pain-pain is there.
The trivial words that most write-writing
those that write here.
Those that are oblivious to all of that
that goes on around you.
If you want to be read write something real
no one that's here reads what you write
except U.S.
so write something real that all feel.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem