As my Mary, I know you love me,
Sadly, you love me uncontrollably.
I often question your 'affection',
Which actually gifts me suffocation.
Trapped in the jail of your arms.
Interrogated in the trial of your palms.
I'm trained to solely achieve your approval, &
To completely forget, how it is to be vocal.
You've hostaged my every thing, &
You've kidnapped my every feeling.
Constructing an individuality outside yours,
To me seems as welcoming as closed doors.
I do not suspect, you love me a lot,
Yet in your sweetness is a bitter shot.
Oh when can we really connect?
Oh when can we be more direct?
As my nearest and dearest one,
With you I'd like to have more fun.
Please, accept my request of friendship, &
Re-nurture our rotten bud of kinship.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem