I could tell you about my face
it's a miracle, really
I'm fifteen and it's unmarred by acne
I could tell you about my shirt
it's a bit baggy
it's wrinkled and loosley clings to curves
I could tell you about my hair
it's a bit dissheveled
and has flattened out since I teased it this morning
I could tell you about my hands
they're typically ten-fingered
There's a ring on my left hand and my nails are black
I could tell you about my pants
they're a little shorter than capris
they were longer, but I hemmed them myself today
I could tell you about the wall
it's a green-grey color
It has some cracks, and the brushstrokes are very obvious
I could tell you about anything
but you wouldn't listen would you?
It wouldn't mean a thing, because I'm just fifteen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem