No looking back.
Back in school days, I had a good friend her name was jess and she was a good friend, she was a newcomer so she didn't have no friends but I became her closes one.
Time passes by and I guess she didn't fit in so her ways begin to change; now jess was the groupie on all the party's, her skirts got shorter and her self teem lower, I couldn't help her, she said I was a nobody.
Jess name change as we grew older, everybody call her a backseat betty and steady I see her at night with bunch of guys.
Now I'm 27 and still go and visit my good friend jess at the cemetery in 24 street she became a drug addict and a lost soul and at the age of 22 she die of aids, I guess is no more looking back to this but to move on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem