The death of my smile, to continue on or to go with it?
I've been broke for a while, crawling to somewhere I fit.
The shade is my home, a nest for my lost ambition to hide,
but I'm home alone, infected and on a self pity ride.
Is it pity though, I really don't know, does it show, or do I act to slow?
walking in row, toe to toe, I'm my worst foe, sleeping like snow.
Am I the nice guy, or do I not even really see who's in here?
Am I a great buy, or am I just another old warm cheap beer?
The shade is my home, a nest for my lost ambition to hide,
but I'm home alone, infected and on a self pity ride.
Why do I always share, why do I always care, why is it unfair?
How do I compare, give me a dare, or beat me like a snare,
I will declare, to be aware, sit on the chair and eat the pear,
think you can out stare, me in my hair, your eyes are fair,
till tears impair, and your attempt at repair, leave you a little bare
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This speaks volumes. Continue with writing poetry so long as you let your messages free, exactly like you did here.