You say you have nothing left to offer;
But you’ve given me a gift I greatly oblige;
The gift of betrayal, the gift to suffer;
The one you’ve conspired with expertise.
I’m beginning to remain often distressed;
My tears have washed my heart in blood;
Deception unbearable my soul has caressed;
Perhaps, I’ll dwell in forever’s teary flood.
You rejoice at the cost of my devastation;
Repeat your game in a whole new way;
How many more preys and excuses shall rain?
The death of betrayal shall surface someday!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem