The walls swam,
paving stones mocked her.
That interfering teacher,
who seized the truth.
Fear bit at the back of her throat.
Stolen to a place unfamiliar,
she longs for that sewing needle.
It alone saw her through the lonely nights.
They had carted it off.
She had to acquire a new way,
an untried way out of this fresh hell.
Suspected of much she was locked out.
With little choice,
she chooses.
Up.
Now her family follow the car.
Many turned up for this affair.
As her mother cries,
it's too late for her to join.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem