I want more scars.
I look like a newborn baby John
just crawled from his momma.
Even a porcelain doll's got cracks
and droopy eyes.
John has the cursed smooth skin
it belies my experience.
I have climbed mountains
and fought Gnomes.
I have won Scrabble
and shattered bones.
I have heard the sound of frogs dying.
I am a worldly John.
Let me be your John.
I would punch the Ocean if it would fight back.
But it always seems to be low tide
when John is around.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem