Pitiful, pitiful, pity me,
how sorrowful life can be.
I live my life as I see fit,
for I dwell in a bottomless pit.
Pitiful, pitiful, pity me,
I have no money to eat you see.
I’m homeless live on the street.
In back alleys under bridges old car seats.
Pitiful, pitiful, pity me,
I have a face you can’t see.
I’m weathered, torn,
wish I’d never been born.
Pitiful, pitiful, pity me
alas the darkness hovers over me.
My time has come I’ll soon be free.
No more pity, no more pity, for me.
Written by: Melvina Germain
Date: April 23/2007
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yet,8 years later...here you are...And that's not a pity...that's great news and e members delight in knowing you are still here quilling and posting quality verse...Nicely Done, Melvina ~FjR~
Yes indeed and it's nice to be back posting again.....