He appeared at my window I asked him what he was doing here
He had no idea he was on shrooms and ecstasy, My guardian threatened to call the police. It hurt how much he didn't care, it hurt to see him fake a happy version of himself, it hurt to slash the razor on my fore-arm. But all-in-all I think I'll be okay...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem