Roses are red, violets are blue. How am I supposed to know that you might be
dead too, With this wondering soul not going far. How am I supposed to know how
you are. With the troubles that you’ve been through, I would also hate them too,
with all the hatred in your heart, I would also slice and dice there pathetic fake little hearts.
I miss you little bro
Tyler Tillett
3/23/09
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem