Thrown into the world 23 years ago,
for all those years, what do I have to show?
Am I going to finally become someone and when if so?
Who really knows.
Here in the breakroom, writing this poem on my lunch hour,
As I look around, I realize my life is sour.
Problems arise day by day, rising like a tower.
Will I ever be a man with power?
It sucks that time machines aren't real.
It sucks that god we can't hear, only feel.
Hopefully time will surpass, and I will heal.
Maybe one day be a navy seal.
Why am I down, so down and lower than id like to be?
Why does this bother me, wish I could be free.
Soon in court ill have to plea.
For something I didn't do, but still there's fees.
So who am I?
A bad guy?
Someone who steals and lies?
I'm not, but it feels as if I no longer want life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love the emotional energy in this poem. I feel it, nice write