You can push me on,
While I push you harder
But our fight be won,
If you draw me closer.
One talk, twice thought
With your Life you pay
And knife to your throat,
For the words you say
Ice cut by friends
Slicing down to the cake
Where every greeds ends
And another one is bake.
Dreams dies slow,
Trying pleasing everyone;
And truth you better know,
Is you simply just let go on.
Sharpen up the saw,
What you given be used
If you don't, you grow raw
and you might get it losed.
Sharpen up the saw, What you given be used If you don't, you grow raw and you might get it losed......excellent
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good one. They will speak to you in tongues so sharpen your Igbo or Yoruba or Hausa and you defeat them. " Scriptures strictures"