The Untold Stories
Is my poem,
The way
I may not go again, when.
Your life's all growing up,
To me not spread,
But bread it needed.
My ways call you,
Always bring.
See that my heart do sing.
Sometimes it thinks,
My life become short.
Remember my friend,
Me not a fraud.
But,
No one see me with your own,
Want I someone it to Shown.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Need to grow up. Good…