The memories of us sitting in your office, alone,
While the class watched through the window;
I said I was innocent, but you didn’t care.
Your soft brown eyes were now filled with flames,
And your melodious voice now rose with rage;
What they heard is now said everywhere.
I know I’m not a bad person,
So why am I sitting here?
Because you refuse
To believe the truth,
And you live by those rumors now.
I’ll get rid of the lies somehow;
I’ll get rid of your spies somehow.
You walk out and slam the door,
To let me drown in my own tears.
You shooed the class off the floor,
To fill them with a million fears.
There are barely any words
To describe what occurred.
Even as you read this,
I still cannot believe it,
How could I have let this happen?
But it’s not really my fault, right?
It is my fault, but it’s yours, too, am I right?
None of this
Could have been
If it weren’t my fault,
If it weren’t for your faults.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem