Everyone have theirs
to call to
send on an errand
everyone have theirs
to play with
when they are isolated
but there lays mine
lonely in ditch
while i'm also lonely
my breasts are shedding
tears and
calling for suckling
but their requests
cannot be met
though the pain is worthy
my dear breasts
stop the silent crying
you 'll soon have the suckers
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem