Like iron fingers
Grips the blade of my shoulders
Twists and squeezes
A pain for no reason
I attempt is always to kill the cold
Avoid the negatives of the world
My life wants the light
But stumbles upon unforeseen plights
Maybe it is the job I hate
Maybe the high-ness of him
Wealth can easily spoil a goal
When wealth outgrows the soul
Reasons could be too many
On thing is for sure
I must find a way
Before others have their say
16 June 2010, Sydney
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem