What is the point?
When I was younger I would say "Love"
But now I do not believe myself worthy of love
For who could ever love such a mess like me
I feel like the paint that's all smeared together
The slurpee you mixed all the flavors in one
The stick on the ground that just won't budge
For I am a mess
A disaster
A MISTAKE
So I ask myself
Is love fake?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem