Please dear mom, do cut mine umbrellica cord...
To this spoilage, one cannot, well afford.
Love for thee i do contend...
Tis be it eternal, not to end.
Mama's boy, i do seem labled, to others...
They seem to read well, of your constant sent smothers.
My heart hints to me, to tell of my love for you...
Please give to me, my space, of you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem