Trash Poem by Emily Michele
Trash
Walk around, swing your hips.
Get those boys wrapped around your finger tips.
Walk around, start to speak.
Betray whomever you think is weak.
Walk around, just let him go.
Getting over your pain is remarkably slow.
Walk around, just stay still.
She doesn’t love him as much as I will.
Please sit down, begin to crash.
One bad boy made you, conceited girl, trash.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/10/2024 3:10:12 PM # 1.0.0.1119
