My effort to live is as good as my fear to die
My strength is weaken by the weight of the world
I give all but receive nothing.

Like a wrestler,
I show all my strength and talent.
They notice not, for all they want is just the satisfaction of their eyes.

I live to die even for the things am not supposed to die for.
I live in the mist of nothing trying to pleased them, now am as nothing as them.

The corpse whom I am is been taken to and fro by the waves of my land to a no destination.

Am beginning to rot and smell in the heart of those i loved with all my heart.
To them, am just but a living corpse.

Like a carcass in the mist of vultures,
Here I am in the mist of faith and religions of land,
Full deceit and evil.

Like a beautiful garden full of roses and lilies,
But beneath, I am that rotten worms and corpse that bring out it glories.

Never have I been notice
Because to all I live no more,
But my strength and talent they always required.
Here I am, today as a breathing corpse.