I sit
I think
I stare off into space
I feel like I’m dying
or falling
but nobody wants to catch me
The liars
Who talk about me
With words from hell that scorch the soul
And the backstabbers
That drive their knives into my back
Killing me
I lay on the ground
As they look over me
Not offering a hand to help me up
Their darting eyes
Their piercing smiles
Hearing every thought they are thinking
As they think they have achieved
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really like how straight forward you were in this one. The third and fourth stanzas really got the point across and packed quite a punch. Nice write.