My best freind is a razor blade.
In my cabinet, you usually stayed.
You only came out to talk to me.
Then I lost you, where could you be?
I knew where I was hiding you.
How could I lose you. My need to talk to you grew.
I looked and looked, thinking in my head.
Then I found you under my bed.
We still have our chats now and then.
And I will always use you with love, again and again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem