Hate brings out the worse in us
its roots strangle others a birth.
Like they say, truth is stranger than fiction.
Look-there's-another wilting flower
-once gilded gold turning grey icy cold.
We're all pond skaters wanting to fly,
wanting to be birds angels of the sky
to be angelic - wanting to be free
but we're more-earthly,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem