I often skip through miss-steps,
Wondering how opinions get
twisted into truths.
I often trip through misfortunes,
struggling with reasons why
Bad things happen without
good reason.
I often remind myself,
Everyone has his or her own sense
of right and wrong,
Merging somewhere along the
lines of compromise.
I often fall as moments blur,
Grasping about blind
when lines no longer meet.
I often die knowing,
Life often ends
this way.
2009 sinnaminsun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem