Everyone that you come into contact with get burned.
You get a kick out of everyone else's pain.
Your torment gives you a high that you can't explain.
All these people walk around with bags under their eye's hoping the chaos will stop.
The sadness in their eyes brings a smile to your face.
The screams of torment is music to your ears.
The soft gentle sound of little Tim is ringing in your ear.
He tries to show you the way.
He tries to introduce you to the heavenly father.
He tries and tries.
But you don't want to listen.
So I guess this is good bye.
February 16,2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem