Painted nail with dyed hair
Yet always misunderstood...
And always taunted more
Than others ever really should...
Scarred, bloody wrists
With a broken heart
Which will never be repaired...
And all because
I got closer to a girl
Than most would have dared...
My broken heart is full
Of pain and regret...
And my mind is filled
With broken memories I try to forget...
Yet these deep words and dark clothes
Are not who make me who I am...
So don't call me emo, just get out
I don't give a damn...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem