Being alone is a feeling worst than being hated,
Being alone is the worst kind of fear,
In a room filled with people a corner seems to be friend,
Wonder where im lying in this dark room
This heartache seems like crime scene
Neva will know who killed our love
Can you stop believing?
Can you stop this screaming?
Can you stop me from going?
Can you be reason to hold on?
Sometimes this life feels like a game….THE GAME
And you u neva know who calls the play
I’m down on my knees
Looking up to the sky
And wondering where did I go wrong
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem