I'd be with them in their arms.
I'd be dieing and sometimes crying.
But there is no use.
They continue to let me down.
They remain to break me down.
I try not to cry nor wonder why.
I try to be strong but slowly I fall.
I try to crawl.
And get up from the hard fall.
There is no more use.
They just want me to lose.
There is no solution.
Though I am trying to find a conclusion.
I know they laugh in my face.
And Stab me when I turn my face.
Yet did you know it's those good people who get stabbed in the back? They suppose kind people can be fooled.
And by them be ruled.
Just to see the close people backstabbing me,
IT KILLS ME
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem