You call me on the phone,
And ask, Do we have a chance?
I say, All I want is for you to do right,
And what you did, was not.
You say you did not do anything,
I say, you are in denial.
I think you are delusional,
And to me you are a trial.
What, will the sentence be?
Life? Or Death?
A life of love and happiness?
Or the death of our love?
I can not go on as we have been,
I am slowly withering away, inside.
Continue down this road,
And one day, I will be dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such is the pronouncing of the death of love. A promise's feedback is repayment.Sure it breaks one's heart but hoe to him who breaks one's heart. Ti's a poem thet leaves one tearing.