Sometimes I look for knife
Just to cut off my wrist,
Ruin this all before midlife,
Coz for me life is mist.
Sometimes I think about my upcoming fascinating days,
That changes my mind,
And forget to suicide and all the gloomy days
And run the life I signed.
Oh sorry I can't bear the scansorial pain.
All my attempt in escaping the life in vain,
Sorry I quit coz of this discomposing life,
Eventually I hang to end up all this strife.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem