She could never be
The cushion I wish to lay on
Depressed, dropped to low to be
She seems to be the reaction
Only person responding to my actions
But just a lust
Something that must bust
Once the fog
that clogs,
Clears then I see you, a muse
A fuse
To my small falls
Because she sees it all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem