This basket of varieties hold all
This sequence holds all the letters
But E and P hump their backs
And E itself is a bunch of sorts
Just like P is at the extreme end
So when it comes to event death
E pushes the commoners to the zone
Go die for the good of the holdall
Offering the supreme price for them
The Elite is a class of its own
So is the miserable poor one
P aren't strictly dying for all
They're exploited for all i know
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem