Fought last night.
Nothing good said.
Hung up the phone.
Went to bed.
Woke up this morning,
Hungover from life.
Wished I was asleep.
Intruding sunlight.
Decided not
to go to school.
Hid and cowered,
under the wool.
Wondered what,
I would say,
to her about,
not going today.
Didn't know.
Didn't care.
Wouldn't tell her the truth.
The truth's become rare.
I guess i'll make up,
another excuse.
Man I miss,
my herbal abuse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem