O'whats his name
Never had any fame
Though he never tried
The remarks they gave were snied
His thoughts were his own
Never to be shot down
By those that thought him a clown
The clown called 'O'whats his name'
O'whats his name
Had little to claim
As he sulked through school
Everyone thought him the fool
His fondest of things
To which his emotion clings
Is his tattered paper pad
The pad that makes him sad
Even though he's a mystery
He would hate to go through life
When his greatest shame
Is being remembered as 'O'whats his name'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love the new theme; creative structure. The rhythm seems a little off in points, but very good effort.