All the nights I cried till my parents wake,
And all the tiny baby steps I take.
All the wrong decisions and parties I had,
The family I want, children to make me glad.
The old persons musty odorous smell,
That is right before I rot in my hell.
Of the people that come to say goodbye,
I fear, will not go to the grave to cry.
And when you ask me where my family went,
I dear say, the death note was never sent.
~2010~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Now I think of it, read All the World's a Stage. They're quite similar