The end is just some words you put at the end of a story
but in this my person is coming to and end
The end has me confused, lost in a forest of blindness, weakness and inferiorness
On a destitute island of hope
for the help im calling my words get choked
The end was another phrase until today
when I had to risk eveything I had worked for
I only have questions of how this day will cease
because im trying to keep my peace
As sure as I have a quick temper I am surely exploding
full of anger that wont cease or desist
My end is in the hand of another for how I pick or choose
I thought 'THE END' was just a phrase
but not today, just not today
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem