You leave me no choice at all,
You let me hanged from the erring.
You got me, stole my innocent,
Because of this, I am destitute.
You love me not,
you care only about your desire.
You deprived the chances
to change your course,
changing it to better decisions and God's will.
You left nothing good,
except those excruciating memoir.
ALAS! Those times are futile and pathetic.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem