My life in prison,
It's gone,
Just like that.
Did it ever happen?
Did I dream
I was in
A concentration camp
Of my own making?
I was the one
Who pulled the trigger
Of the fake gun
After all.
There is a shame in that,
At the time to feed my habit.
Now, my life relives the shame
So I stay away from all,
As I am blame.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem