We say that we're too good for this world
And maybe we are right.
We were innocent youth, until they sold our rights.
Our bodies aren't our bodies, they are owned by our nation.
Our minds are torn between what they say and what we think.
Either be controlled or lose control, write it all in ink.
So that maybe after all of them are gone,
The new innocents will see, they won't be innocent for long.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem