Not careing
brings me to the deapths of my dispair
life isnt fair
i do not remeber choosing to live
i do not remember choosing to be placed in a world with sin
to in the end be rewarded
why couldnt i have been nothing
in the darkest depths that seize to be
depths of my dispair
life isnt fair
god i try and i try
when will you speak to me with your voice
when will i get to see your face
so long to go and its been so long
life is what we make it
thats what they say
god im running out of words
i pray and i pray.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'From trailing clouds of glory do we come, from God who is our home'(Wordsworth) . Your last four lines are very powerful. Our Lady Queen of Peace, appearing in Medugorje, has told us to 'Pray, Pray, Pray.'