Ensnare you in, 
This web of lies.
Become the thing, 
That I despise.
Manipulate, 
I will no more.
For it is now, 
Too great a chore.
It's not just you, 
With wicked heart.
I have my share, 
Of bitter tarts.
But I'm done with, 
Using people.
Time to get out, 
Of this deep hole.
And on my own, 
I will pull through.
Done falling when, 
I thought I flew.
Done falling for, 
People like you.                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    