I know it is unfair.
The numbers do not lie to me.
The heart keeps on saying that it is the only truth.
I feel it too, but i decide not to do anything.
I keep things to myself.
I know who i am
and what will i become when i am no longer here.
This world is a left-over
and this is what those real cockroaches really love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem