You tell me
You didn't tell them
Of the secrects I told you
How couldnt I see
You are the person you turned out to be
OH how i HATE thee
I knew something was missing
what i heard was true
It just had to come from you
laying here in the grass
here with this piece of glass
so much blood to take
so much to give
the blood has stained the glass
the blood is spilled over the grass
my eyes filled with tears
my clothes soaked with red
the memories of all the years
and I lay here dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem