I do not see what you see.
All I am is me.
Why do you stare,
Is it something about my hair.
Is it good or bad,
Does it make you sad.
Is it my smile
that makes you want to run a mile
or is it my eyes
that have been betrayed by lies,
What about me.
Could it be how I'm shy
Or how I walk on by.
I'm not that clever
I don't own lots of leather.
What about me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem