My poems are never really about me
Its mostly about the pain I see
I try and write down what I feel
But I Question is this feeling completely real
I try and hide those thoughts away
I try and pretend that I am oke
The thoughts that go around my head
Telling me I`m beter of dead
Those thoughts alone are making me mad
I feel disgusting and awful bad.
I may give in
And let them win
For I am no longer strong
A place to be free is what I long
My poems are never really about me
Its just an illusion I want Dee to see
Who is it about the me, he or she?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem