Neither am I sad,
nor I am happy.
I still have got a mother,
a brother and a grandmother;
I lost long ago my dad.

Neither do I shed tears,
nor do I smile;
I just keep staring at
the clock for a while.

Never do I speak of
the pain inside me;
Ever do I reach out to
the world outside me.

I prefer walking alone;
I cannot ride a bike.
I do not care of criticism–
neither appreciation,
nor dislike.

I do not know whether
what I am doing
is right or wrong.
To express myself,
I always write poems;
I have no desire
to sing a song.