May 18,1994
The day I was born
Been on the move ever since birth
Feels like I'm traveling this earth
Only in 11th grade and been to 15 different schools
Living my own life, by my own rules
Been through enough, so I know what's wrong
I write my own lyrics, and I write my own songs
Songs about my life and all that is true
Writing and more writing is all I do
I walk around everyday with a chip on my sleeve
Waiting and waiting for it to leave
Leave and go far, far away and start over new
And nobody telling me what to do
Once got to the point where I put a knife to my arm
Twice almost cutting and put myself in harm
I know that it is bad, but it made all the problems go away
Sitting in this room, with one last thing to say
Going through all these problems living without a father
And that concludes the ' Story Of My Life '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem