He’s a very delicate soul
Immature, yet not by choice
Knowledge unbeknown to him
Who am I to take his pride away
Of not knowing prime rapport dealings
Between a man and woman
His essence is pure yet his mind is tortured
With thoughts of what could have been
~Kristy C. Artmann~ © 2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem