I hate the smell of disappointment
I hate the taste of losing
The stings of failure keeps leaving holes in my soul
I know I can't survive long in this pool of shame
I can feel the grasp of death pulling me down deeper;
Deeper Into the darkest place of my soul
I try whispering onto you to yank me out
But each time I whisper I see you pulling away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem