Does my soul exist?
Has darkness made me a non-moralist?
Did god lose track of my soul?
Does god truly play this role?
I've pondered this question all my life.
I've lived my life at my own discretion.
The wounds I inflicted will leave scars.
I'll leave god to judge. This will be my
own penance to acknowledge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem