People, they think there so smart,
Don't even let me start,
They think they know everything,
Like there the king.
When you have something to your self,
They'll take in stealth,
who cares about you,
But to them it's just a big virtue.
People... they think they run the world,
But to be told,
They can't even run there own lives,
Because they have to use knives.
Some people... they get under your skin,
Some days its like you've attacked by a sharp pin,
They don't think about others feelings,
On them it just leaves little dings.
Some people... they don't care about any one but them selves,
So they can go sit on some shelves, like little elves...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem