I once named a star after this city
Only to watch it fade slowly away
My life is painted on a broad canvas
All in pastels filled with life’s blessings
Somehow nothing has died inside of me
I’m just leaving well enough so alone
With my books and pictures of dead poets
I stand unaccompanied in a wasteland
In fairy tales the wicked are ugly
Now wicked is a second hand love
Satan keeps this town in his pocket
Laughing all the while it fades away
At least dead poets say something
Most here are just blank slates
Canton, Ohio has only wasted her time
And stole time creating illusions
From riches to rags and sickness
I know when to love, ignore and leave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem