So many ways to my final breath
But so few have I given a chance,
The tipping edge in view at a glance
No pause - but respect poor Macbeth.
My death will just be a smirk or a sigh!
Hardly remembered, readily forgotten,
Condolences mostly misspelt or downright lie
A parody of pretense, and good riddance.
But haven't I deserved this rhyme
Yet some may argue - even less;
It's humbling to confess
I've been a wasted tool of Time.
Still, given a chance to repeat
I would embrace every sorrow sweet,
N pen this note again
Before the final heartbeat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem