what can i say except i was proud,
what can i say life at least i know is not a bed of roses
you are
again im alone, subject to external forces
me and others
im waiting for the sevenyth wave, i knew you once
i wanted you i got shot
i dont nkow the names of all the murderers
im developing calous skin on my finger tips
ive lost all faith in the world
im woried weather my life will be inconsecuential to the world
im trying to act my way out
sometimes i think a bowl of cereal will fix it
sometimes it does
sometimes i tink about all the people without cereal
do they think of me
my feelings are important about you
i wont feel sorry about myself
i saw you and we what of the rest do you agree tolet it happen
you dont have to worry i will never betray you
i aprove of ballerinas
you can come to me wiyhout perfume, il put it on for you
i knew you would satisfy all your desires,
its just so natural for you to be ladylike
the seventh wave came
i wont tel anyone
how can i repay you
it could be so simple
and why not would you prefer to make tea
your mine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem