Sometimes when people die, you wonder if you even truly knew them.
Sometimes when people leave, you wonder if their relatives even care.
Sometimes when people pass away, you feel you are condemned.
Sometimes when people choose to leave, you know you were not there.
Sometimes I feel this will be my tale, when I finally hit the hay.
Sometimes I feel like all the world will laugh and take my cash.
Sometimes I feel they will forget me in a day.
Sometimes I feel that day will come, when I’m no more than ash.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sometimes...we leave behind our thoughts for all to see and to get a closer insight into who we really are...the people who bother to look for us, never forget us...well done.