Every night hours spent crying,
Hours spent wishing I was dying,
You know about her,
Yet you don't know that that's what I was going to tell you,
Except I already tried-and failed,
But how could I say that,
After seeing what you wrote,
I keep thinking about it,
I can see it perfectly,
And that's why I couldn't say,
Because one is bad enough,
Two is hell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
dont.you know what i mean.