the world is telling
you what is happiness
where to get it and when
and why
it never thinks about you
what happiness is where to get it
and why
you always have your own definition
and it does not fit
the definition of the world
and it watches you closely
inside a fence
a cell a box a chain and once
you go out from the box
or jump over the fence or break
that chain
you better have wings to make you fly
far far away
the world has a gun for a freak like you
and they never mind whom to shoot
whom to kill
as the numbers keep rising....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem