She belongs to the streets, she is not for keeps!
Nothing worthwhile will last with her kind,
Just take a ride and hop onto the next bus,
She can't be the reality from your dreams.
So they speak.
But I beg to disagree.
Her kind is the only one they wish to have,
Their ride for the night or their cum to slumber land.
They'd rather own them together with the streets,
Taking that chance to see if they'll change her mind and keep her around.
So why the pretence?
There's no crown in claiming you're for the virgin land,
Nothing wrong with dying alone before settling down,
And it might be old as you suppose,
But hers is all you're about even with your 'till death do us part'
That hate stemming from reality that she belongs to the streets with lanes you'll never step,
A reduction title to make you feel better from the pain of being turned down.
Maybe she does belong to the Streets!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem