The quiet kid i the back of the room.
She doest say much.
Keeps to herself.
Has nothing to say.
Cuts covered up with a jacket.
Scars always hidden.
Her time spen alone.
Nothing to say.
Maybe that is it.
Just keeping quiet.
This troubled soul wats help.
No one knows she is troubled though.
Can't she get help?
Can't any one see that troubled soul?
Can't ay oe see that she just so happends to be me?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem