You don’t know what death is
There’s no air to breathe
You can say “This is life”
I call it “A dull knife”
It is cutting through me
Unkind and brutally
You told me “Don’t give ride”
As you’ve been, remain nice
Remember you advice
Leave free to decide
I may take machete
Or commit suicide
A fighter kills to live
No power? Time to leave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem