The shame I felt to the pain I held or the fear I shielded bringing up old memories killed, I'm not the man I see in the mirror with a mind so confident but heart shut sealed from the outside, alone and scared the empty reflections filled so dense.
Light shortened and life blurring; time was running out to man up, stop hurting, confront something but what? Out of breath, breathing hard; no rest. The man I sought to be was fictional, the man you had seen is rather mythical. Lies brought about, spread aloud, and to ears of the people proud, a new life begun as a fake who'd pretend to be anything for fun. Karma caught up to him a few year's later and gave him what he deserved, agony of all the people who hurt, from what he thought was simple mendacity came to be kids biggest misery, revealing lies upon lies, my life as a second persona had come haunting me, what lies in the mirror Is nothing
less then old memories.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
...my life as a second persona had come haunting me, .... tremendous.