Under my four post bed,
You’ll find many treasures,
Either that,
Or many junks.
Dusts and spider webs,
Old stacks of magazines,
Celebrities’ cut-outs,
Misplaced crayons,
And oh yeah,
A journal I hadn’t seen for many years.
Turned out,
I’ve always been ambitious,
Ambitious but reasonable.
Because in it,
There’s a Wish List neatly written,
Many forgotten wishes.
And my heart broke upon reading this:
“To die before 35.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you are a real poet! ! just dont die before 35.