Bleeding from one deep cut.
As I close the door behind me.
I am sitting in the dark, warm your closet.
Where are all my friends now?
Where have they all gone.
Friends and talking on the phone,
to friends that never knew.
Coming over, no one ever there,
To my friends that never came.
Because and when you held me
daddy dear you dried my tears,
and daddy do you hear me on the phone
through all the static and the white noise
I'm coming home to be with mom.
So just keep talking to me daddy
until I'm done and you are gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem