Obscure, drawn, demented
With mouths agape
We blend in wishing to stand out
The mop that sloshes
Keeps us clean
But below its dark and dingy
Our screams of pain
Aching to be heard
Are masked by the ever shiny wax
Too long have the feet of oppressors trodden us down
The scuffs that scar these weary forms
But the day has come
Voice has reached the mouthing
The trapped are breaking free
Too long unheard, too long absurd
Now we stand on high
Our feet on even ground
No boot shall ever again trod us down
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem