I’ve been told I’m a machine,
At only eighteen.
There’s a lack of emotion
In my facial expression.
Whatever I do,
It means nothing to you.
Whatever I say,
Always sounds gay.
I find it hard,
To speak my words.
I find it hard,
To ever be heard.
I want you to know,
Wherever I go,
I’ll always remember,
Last November.
What went on,
That is now gone.
What we had,
And what we did.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem