At fifteen,
I thought the greatest tragedy,
was breaking up after three months,
oh how naive.
At fifteen,
I thought my one and only,
was a boy who hit on my friends,
oh how silly.
At fifteen,
I thought that growing up,
was so easy as I was so mature,
oh how short sighted.
At fifteen,
I thought so many thoughts,
and now I can't help but see,
I was so stupid and naive
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem