Everything he said,
Before I went to bed,
I wonder if they were true,
or were they just a lie,
Like that story about tying your shoe.
He told me he loved me,
He told me he cared,
But the pain he caused me,
Showed that he wasn't really there.
And there's not much you can do,
Now that I'm grown,
I guess I'll never no what it feel's,
Like to be loved by your own.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Not a bad poem at all