Was I ever the maker of my own fate?
The nuisance of all these years
Of a thousand horrors, a thousand fears
Was I ever the master of my own soul?
Flinched at every turn of doom
Buried within me like a tomb
Was I ever walking down the right path?
Bludgeoned down upon with grimaces
Bowed head at each and every faces
Was I ever truly alive?
Loomed over the horrors of past present
A life to which life itself seems absent.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem