I sit here in loneliness,
Merely a plague to society.
As I watch life regress,
Existence lessens in variety.
I’m reduced to absolute squalor,
Forced to reside in the slums.
I must not waste a single dollar,
Or further into poverty, I succumb.
Darkness is my domicile,
Wretchedness is my life.
Conditions to survive, so vile.
I’m engulfed within strife.
They call me” meager peasant”,
I am automatically shunned.
To bear witness to me is unpleasant,
Worries for me, they have none.
I stare into the dead sky,
Pleading to God for assistance.
Though he does not hear my cries,
And does not grant me forgiveness.
I find this life to be inescapable.
This fact, I have ascertained.
This has proven me completely incapable,
Of breaking this cycle, so mundane.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem