I stick like Elmer’s glue
To anyone that gets too close.
I hope you don’t run too.
I know my imperfection glows.
There are weeds over my eyes.
But maybe you won’t find it;
The thorns stuck in my thighs.
I’m not much to think about
And I think I think too much.
But your eyes don’t hold doubt.
You know I need your touch.
Baby, don’t worry about a thing
Let’s make trouble and run away
If we die we’ll go out with a bang
C’mon, let’s live just for today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
toss and turn...3 am haunts like a ghost