Some men are quite taken with me
because they can't break me-
They don't know I had already been to Hell
at an early age-
The Hell of Myself. Yeah,
I know a little something about self loathing.
It's a gift I don't take for granted
anymore
for the only way out
is to go
so deep into the forest,
only to realize the enemy is yourself.
It's a battle I came here to win.
These poor men. They try so hard
to b r e a k my s p i r i t and laugh about it.
I know my way around the forest.
The question is
do they
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem