now strength means nothing, you got to bob and weave
I take my shirt off, so I don't wear my heart on my sleeve
never had any feelings so I never had to care
God gave me something and now I am here
putting myself out there for people to touch
using my poetry as a form of a crutch
can't understand what makes me do it
writing until my pen runs out of fluid
crawled slowly out of my hole
to repent my sins and save my soul
talked about my past, ambitions and women
wrote about the dead, dying and living
sometimes I think I should have kept some secret
like how I felt about the girl I wanted to be with
one thing I've learned you can't change the past
happiness is fleeting but pain will always last
though I do believe that the truth will set you free
I know the lies make it easier for a person to see
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem