Advil
The pen sits there bearing the name
(Name of pain killer)
As graves are supposed to be
(And visiting the sick)
Here I sit
Waiting for my turn
Supposedly relieved
Thankful I must be "You're not as bad."
But how can I?
When in fact
Their pain is weight on my head;
If not I am not selfish.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem