I try hard to be selfless, and grow in my stature.
Shit that I've dealt with helped me forgo the latter.
Sights I've beheld; Shit, you tell me don't matter.
Still, I have to tell it; Or else I grow madder.
Leave nothing withheld which helps overthrow anger;
But can it be quelled amidst my innermost chatter?
Even my unparalleled wit can't bestow the answer.
I'm still not compelled to quit before I know laughter.
Never excelled at shit 'cept making bones fracture;
But I rebelled and split just to show that I'm badder.
The truth is; I felt unfit, so I wrote a new chapter.
Every word spelled and writ as if to outgrow the master.
Still not settled like sediment from a chateau decanter.
Climbed out of a Hellish pit; Left every foe a cadaver.
What makes me unwell persists and regrows like cancer.
It's weakened my shell a bit, but I keep hold of valor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem