When we fought,
It was more then sticks and stones.
Whenever I thought,
It was better to be kept unknown.
There was always a problem,
It seemed to be something I did.
So I changed the way I do things,
Yet the problem was still so big.
I did everything I could,
to make this mistake no more.
Only realizing when I was gone,
The mistake was me all along.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem