My friend left me in the street to walk my way back home,
No explanation, apology, tschüß or adieu
I was left friendless, empty, alone
He settled for another with no moral compass
That needed a shoulder to cry,
One that was septic, daft and hardly articulate,
And I'm struggling in wondering why,
If only he could have been honest and forthright
Nothing too personal just trite,
An allocution following the emasculation of
Past loves left him scarred yet with the grace of a dove,
He was twice shy and feeling less than zero,
Wanting only to be some woman's hero
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem