It was a total inconvenience
my existence
I wasn't meant to be born,
I never even asked for it
I'm just a waste
A waste of space
A waste of time
A waste of blood
A total, waste
So I give it all up
I give up my soul, my body and mind
I give it away to the emptiness of the void
Throw it all away
I'll never amount to anything,
I'll never make anything of myself
I'll never get anywhere
I'll just lay here
And let myself decompose
I'll let the bugs find a home in my skull,
and let the vines find something to grab onto with my ribs
I'll let the vultures get a meal with my flesh
And let the maggots consume anything left behind
I give myself up to the world
And hopefully
I'll be forgotten
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Josefina, I'm sorry you're so depressed if your words here reflect your true feelings. Writing poetry won't help your condition. Go find a good therapist now. However, if the poem's sentiments are you simply being poetic, then you might benefit from reading some good contemporary poets who deal with this subject (Louise Gluck, for one) . if you have time, check out my new website: jeffersoncarterverse.com Tell me how you like it. Thanks. Yrs, JC