My Story, My Life. Poem by Stephan van Pinksteren

I was different from the rest,
That's what they sad.
I did everything wrong,
In there eyes.

I ain't perfect,
I know that.
But did it have,
To turn out this way.

Life is to hard for me,
What did I do to myself.
It feels so empty inside,
Me to, wants to enjoy life.

But life is to complicated,
It makes it impossible for me.
I tried over and over again,
But there was always pain in the end.

Sometimes I don't know,
Any reason for me to exist.
And I have to fight,
For the power to continue.

Nel buio ho potuto piangere,
Senza paura, senza rammarico.
Nel buio posso dire,
Cio che di giorno nessuno capisce.

I could laugh,
I could pretend I was happy.
But deep inside I'm suffering,
By the hate and sorrow.

On the outside I live.
But from inside I'm Dying.
And tell me,
Why was everything taken from me.

Even the happiness was stolen.
Why did I get,
For everything that I've done
Hate in return.

And now you get something from me,
This time you don't have to steel it.
My life is for you,
And everything attached to it.

I want it to end,
I thought that last night.
The feeling made me sick,
The thoughts made me cry.

This isn't a story,
This is my life.
These are my last words,
I'm sorry.

I would never leave you.
I would always be near,
If you noticed that I'm gone,
Than you did understand.

I've never talked to you about my problems,
You didn't have time for me just like the rest.
But sooner or later,
You to will accept my emptiness.

And the rest,
They won't even notice.
Because I was just a stain in there life's.
That has just been vanished.

But don't forget,
Even if you didn't know me,
Because you never had time.
I still love you.