Round and round and down we go
Tumbling, stumbling into the pit below
The light fades, as we near the end
None left, for prayers to condescend
Striking the bottom, our thoughts are dead
While no activity occurs, inside our heads
Realizing depression, does now, coincide
With thoughts of our own suicide
Its far to late, to go back, now
If we did, we wouldn't know how
For in our lives, its all come too late
To ever change, our self-imposed Fate
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem