Catholic and that plaid dress.
i will die and disrobe it's the weapon.
It looks the same as it looked in the fifth grade.
Red, white and blue plaid, white shirt and red tie,
white knee socks and black and white shoes.
Those bumps on the shirt make me turn beet red,
and admittedly so,
as i watch the things they dropp so you will and i must too.
The look when you do and it does when you look at me too.
And the skirt and when the skirt hikes up it's the weapon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I blush to say, I did enjoy this very much.