I look at pictures of family and friends.
Then I realize my life is coming to an end.
My heart did mend.
Everytime it tended to be mended, here I was left un-defended.
Life is intence.
The thought of it makes me wince.
Nothing here makes since.
So I'll say my goodbye.
It will be no lie.
I'm going to die.
So now goodbye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem