On eight fingers, two thumbs, and two palms
How upside down my world becomes
I'm beyond those of despair
Wondering when do I have time to care.
My world is based on uncertain things.
Almost boils down to misery
But I, this person who I've become, have a destiny
To make who I am be or not to be.
Am I that despicable one who's broke down like a mixed fraction?
So broken I'm marked with an unknown caption
Is this a fact or do I have a piece of an opinion?
This tiny world has only so many options
So let this be
It's only this world and me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem