i know that if i die,
nowon will wounder why.
no one lovesme,
al they want to do is cange me.
no one will cry,
when hey pass my grave by.
my family hates me,
the just want to get read of me.
every one knows im goin through hell,
but n one would dare to tell.
people say they love me,
but all they d is use me,
and there no scared to loose me.
i try to rid of my pain,
but every drunken night of mine is there gain.
i always act like im glad or mad,
but when deep down inside im sad.
i lie n he floor after lihts out,
waiting for my brother to pass out.
if i fall asleep he rapes me,
now ou may not believe me.
but why would you,
you don know me, and i dont know you.
i know you don care,
but i also know life isnt far.
but when im dead,
keep his in your head;
all hose late nights,
i layed in fright.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Genuine love exist. Affection is not affectation Those who found genuine love, always look before they leap. Life is beautiful. Occupy the heart with more books And less love for now. A poem of lament. Sylva.