She wasn't really my friend, you see;
she just stirred a curiosity in me
for things alien to my propriety.
I watched the way she swayed her hips,
and envied the color thick on her lips,
and laughed at all her funny quips.
Behind the gym she'd go to smoke;
skipping classes for a toke
shared with some big biker bloke.
I saw her from the east wing door
pull up the mini skirt she wore;
the biker said, now show me more.
That big bloke turned his head around
when she threw her butt upon the ground,
and made a little moaning sound.
I learned a lot of things in school,
and I guess I thought that I was cool,
but I never broke a single rule.
My world today is smooth and fair,
with people to love and people to care,
but I still miss things I would not dare.
I saw a note that the girl had died;
she wasn't my friend, still I cried,
for the things she did I never tried.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem