His life had been like a seesaw.
One day he was running women and now he was running from the law.
He didn't know where to turn.
He felt that he would end up in an urn.
He had so much anger inside.
He couldn't go straight if he tried.
He knew that someday he would be put into the electric chair.
And his body would be fried.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Anger is one letter short of danger