Adjusting self to living, wondering what it is that I am
doing wrong, always managing to have nothing and wanting
to know why this is.
What is the reasoning behind it all, with an innate talent
and intelligence, things should be better in this world
and yet so far they are not.
Killing hope, dwindling faith, walking away dejected at
times, wondering always how to change this awful pattern.
Moving forward, creating and developing everything with
a hopeful attitude that eventually can alter it all.
Making it fit life for it's betterment in these final days
of living and being, alone in many thoughts and being quiet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem