</>The wall I was walking towards didn't absorb me,
Was rather reluctant to stooping so low;
better absorb myself into soul, to make it outside.
My soul was on the outside, darn.
A boy slipped towards me with his hiphop
I thought it's stupid.
Pickin' up a flower, I lit it burn
The on-again-off-again flame ended up all liabilities.
I did not complete the Grown-up-to-be composition.
The last eyelash in the corner of my eye left behind a teardrop
A teardropp from yawning; not from crying for you.
I had practised the talent,
but I didn't use it...
The Next Level is more difficult;
Practise to be a better wallflower amongst competitive flowers,
Move up to it.
!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem