Right before he fell asleep,
He grabbed the plastic bag.
Past his face and to the neck,
He thinks of dreams once had.
But dreams gave way to deep regrets,
The man he couldn't be.
No more options no other way,
To set this prisoner free.
He feels the heat of every breath,
Inside his man made tomb.
His light is at the end of life,
Within the hotel room.
Knowing it was finally here,
A smile filled his face,
Gasping for his final breath,
He won his final race.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem