He died all alone.
He lived for us all.
Preached love and respect
and Mi Familia
as the only things worth
a damn in this world
where the beautiful
one's end up bloating
and leaking their
insides on the outside
of the white lines
on the road.
I wonder if
he thought of
us as he choked
and wriggled
with each
slowing
heartbeat.
I think of him often.
And he's always beautiful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem