Oh, boy. A touchy subject
Gotta use just the right dialect
Let me see, how to start?
There's a lot to say about this part...
Summer of my 8th grade year
Fell in love with someone very dear
Funny, pretty, smart, and sweet
Everything about her was oh, so neat.
Chelsea's the name, can't ever forget her
She was the girl, she made my summer
Always on my mind, a beautiful disease
She was the bomb, she set me at ease.
Time went on, the seasons passed
She made me smile, she made me laugh
I dreamt of her, I thought of her much
I cared, I loved, the rest and such.
She was the bomb, I said before
A nuke, I guess, to end the wars
Apparently I was not the guy
That could make her happy, make her fly
I was hurt, but I didn't cry
I came back for another try
I said I could give her so much more
Ended up sitting alone, on a cold, hard floor
Kept on coming, never lost my hope
That maybe I could be the one
But yeah, I must have been on dope
Cause we were very much done.
Miss Hawkins came and stole my feeble heart
Had it a while, then tore it apart
She got tired, she got bored
She was the first I ever truly adored...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great honesty and emotion, enjoyed. -Kylie M. Lynch