Fragile like a dandelion blowing in the wind
You might tell me that I'm pretty
But that don't mean a thing
Wandering heart left a mess of colour that I can't erase
I sit and dream a damn good painting of all of my mistakes
I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve
Hoping someone will come and fix me
People say, people change
Why couldn't I have stayed the same
Now I'm lost
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
What a pretty poem, I liked it very much, thanks for sharing, Added to my favorite poems list: -) Waiting to read more by you.