Just a loser in a school
waiting for his time
writing simple poems
trying to make them rhyme
to scared to say whats going on
always too scared to scream
he couldnt say anything out loud
all he could do was dream
so finally he put the dreams to work
he put the pencil to the pad
he read them over and over again
when ever he was sad
cause the dreams gave him hope
a new purpose in life
that he could own a little white house
have three kids and a lovely wife
or maybe he could own the world
influence it with his voice
no being tossed around
with the ability to make his choice
he took of life's blindfold
he began to really see
so if you havent figured out
that loser is me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem