I don't want a poem from you,
Their your mark on all your girls,
Your signature
Your statement,
Your opinion,
It’s what you leave them all,
After you’ve mastered them,
You’re like a husband,
With to many mistresses,
That you parade in front of your wife,
Cheating on her with all of them,
Using the same lines over again,
So I don’t care what you think,
You don’t own me anymore,
Purple, blue, green, and yellow,
You’re just a bruise that will soon fall way,
The colors fading into grey,
A memory best left forgotten,
A shadow haunting me
From my murky past.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beauty, Yes a signature, But a signature of affection!