Here i lay nice and peacful, cold and unmoving. coiled in a ball dead. i got fed up with life and got fed up with love and hate and all this debate so i grabed the gun and took a life, in order to keep sane i had to hit the ground with no one to blame. there has to be the end to every game mabe il find the end of this one...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem