Life is a gift
rapped up in newspaper
and set to burn
and that what is left
is photo of our story
the only truth is
that it is ours and ours alone
we are the writers, prescribers, and the deciders
we are the reason we fail, and the reason we succeed
we are everything and anything in between
we are life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
True, we shape our lives to a good extent.