'It' doesn't seem to want to leave,
quietly trailing, lurking behind.
Always there to stab you in the back,
putting you down when you begin to rise.
But yet,
In a world of diversity and judgment,
'It' sees not color,
nor money or fame,
just black and white.
Some might call 'It' Pain,
I just call it life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem