Had you granted me a flower
so I would be your florist
had you offered me a shoulder
so I would carry your burndens
I've only been stung
by your thorny roses
lumped around by
your wounds and anger doses
I expect nothing when I render
yet, love is the excpetion
feel where im coming from
feel my preseption
If loving you was my medicine
I would've won me a prescription
but no, you're the illness and drug itself
because of you i loved and hated
all at once
died and lived
and had no bunce
Honestly I liked(gave but not received) and was stunned by it comparing to your young age. ahead my talened daughter Isam
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely..nicely-crafted..well done, carry on.