The game is pain,
the rules are fair.
Suffering and dying
that's all, they swear.
They take your heart
and ripe it there.
It really hurts,
like they care.
Slowly but surley
your dying away.
As they stand back
to watch and play
You cry for home,
yet what do you see?
Nothing. No one. None.
The game is pain,
now yours is done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem