Realizing all the shit that messed with my mind.
Committing crimes just to buy the next dime.
Not caring about the world around,
I found myself....drowning with no sense of space or time.
No coping skills to live life straight.
It seemed that it was just my fate.
No accountability I take, my dreams just fade.
My father always said it was the bed that I made.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem