Walking with my chin up,
just as mother told me,
sometimes I will trip.
My shoes are never tied,
so really it's inevitable.
My laces always lag behind me,
fraying all the faster.
What if I told you I didn't know how to tie my shoes?
My mother wasn't very good at teaching those things.
The bunny goes through the
no, the ears and a tail
Everytime I trip,
the outcome just get's worse.
Cuts on my leg,
pills trickling down my throat.
How could I not gag?
Sometimes when I trip,
I fall pretty hard.
Leading to the edge of the bridge,
I'll stand there for hours,
waiting to let go.
So who will teach me,
to tie my shoes?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem