They may be a punk; they're the softest person I know.
They may be willing to stand up and fight; I know, deep down inside, they feel guilty for hurting a fly.
They may have had to grow up tough from the bullying that started on the first day of nurdary class; I see through the bravado like crystal clear glass.
They may have shut off from the world, become distant and cold after years of abuse and trauma; I got to connect with them on an otherworldly level.
They may have gotten used to being insecure and too broken for others to handle; I am more than happy to hold all those broken pieces together.
They might not be able to see how much I love them; I pray one day, they'll love me back...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem