Life is Hell for some
and the only release is a bottle of rum.
so listen to me when I say most of life just ends
so why stay and play these games that do not pay?
For others who think they need you.
They might say the believe in you
but when it comes down to it is it true?
do they really believe in you?
or do they plan to use you
then make you look like a fool.
Turning you into a tool and using you as there mule
to pave there path into light
leaving you trashed and thrashed to die
until the scythe catches you allowing you to finally fly.
You may not recognize the people passing you by.
Because no matter how hard you try you get used.
When you decide to fly after you die you escape the abuse.
The misuse of you forever...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem