we was trapped ashamed in our own pain outcast,
from the world as we sit remember the past wonder.
will this still last it's been along time sense we smell
the grass looking around blink my eyes and seen every thing passed before me.
Waking up to my terror who is there to fill my errors.
darkness not quite fading away slowly feel like i am dying wind from the air is lying.
blowing agianst my skin ageing me pores from my skin crying.
If i died before i wake will they goe see my grave or is
they to sraced to be brave will they make it in time to save.
Or will it be to late and see another geneation in another form of slaves
Christian Guice
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem