You're the source of my hate,
Source of my greed,
Source of my grudges,
And source of my bleed,
I hate you forever,
and there's nothing you can do,
to make me like you,
after all i've been through.
Try hell for a minute,
and you'll know whats been told,
except what I've been through,
is around fifty-fold.
You understand now,
but its too late,
'Cause your death's been decided,
the moment you were made.
Try screaming for help,
But nobody's there,
to help you through this,
real-life nightmare,
You won't die yet,
'cause you've yet to try hell,
but this knife will cut you,
the moment you yell.
I know its wrong,
but it feels good,
and whats life,
if you do what you should.
Its time for you to die,
or face the truth,
that what I wanted was liking,
and to call a truce.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem