somedays i think of running from it all
droppin to my knee and take the fall
or take a gun and put my brains on the wall
somedays i break down and almost cry
praying to god that i'm ready to die
and slit my wrist for every lie
other days i feel in alive
then fake and deprived
wishing i would go to hell
and put in my solitary cell
to rot for life
and live alone with my knife
i do this cause I'm with my fears
caused with no life and pears
demons screaming in my ears
when the wind screams
and i roll from my dreams
i see your face
and remember that I'm a disgrace
some days i feel like putting brains on the wall
cause i faced my fall
or should i run from it all?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem