You dont like my attitude.
And ive gained to much altitude,
Im naturally high,
Not actually high.
Where do you think i came from.
How can you have hope?
When you cant even cope,
With how hard things are getting?
You sulk and you mope,
Everytime you slip down the slope,
And every time the sun starts setting.
You say im not doing well,
When your heart beats like drum.
[You want me to] Go to hell?
Where do you think i came from.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem