i have my personal justice written across my pulse
constant thoughts and very clear needs
my personal justice is just that: personal
like a thief whose money you're carrying
if only luck didn't have so much to do with it
or time, or life
who says i'm not better?
life has its own will and it does not care about your plans
or secrets or hopes you bury inside.. counting minutes, days, months
for your justice to have its turn
it does not have a turn
time couldn't care less
you can be your own prisonner, if you like
life won't even bother
still... when will you surrender?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
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