Growing up is painful - it is killing me.
There are no directions to point me the right way.
Spinning crazily like a magnet in the north pole - my life gyrates with no control.
Trying to head in every direction at once - I end up standing still.
There are no cures - no remedies for growing up.
Each day begins a new day - each day we fill a brand new cup.
There are no set rules from A to B.
Everyone tries haphazardly to keep themselves alive, amidst all the noise and craziness.
There's not a soul alive with the answers to the questions of maturity.
We all strive for this something we call growing up - and yet we know little or nothing about it.
How can we be so stupid, trying to attain an impossibility while making every attempt to live our lives?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem