Ensnare you in,
This web of lies.
Become the thing,
That I despise.
Manipulate,
I will no more.
For it is now,
Too great a chore.
It's not just you,
With wicked heart.
I have my share,
Of bitter tarts.
But I'm done with,
Using people.
Time to get out,
Of this deep hole.
And on my own,
I will pull through.
Done falling when,
I thought I flew.
Done falling for,
People like you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem