If I die young,
Write not of the years we spent together
Write not about my death's cause
Write not about my religious beliefs
I never died young am still young in heart
I died before my soul gave up on me
I called unto my God before I gave up

If you have to write,
Write of the days I was sad
Write of how you abandoned me
Indicate of the days I spent alone
With my bleeding heart all alone
With my hands hiding my face
Write of how all humanity disappointed me
Tell the world of my sad days

My mind in a caged locked
Never letting it explore the chain of memories
Never tasting the sweetness of silvers and notes
Encamping myself in a lonely imaginary palace
All my mouth would do was trembling
And calling for my souls rescue but all in vain

My life's book dotted with ink of pain
The pages tattered and almost falling off
Life plucking out the pages of sweet life
My poetry book full of blank pages
My mind too selfish to myself
Giving room for my thoughts to scare me