Well come on in and take a seat and I will try and tell you the story of erin, the story of me. I have scars on my knees cause I liked to climb trees. I like the cold and I feel so old. I go to sleep by counting sheep. I cook and clean. My brothers are mean. And I try to live a lie and I curl up in the corner to cry. My pain doesnt gain a god damn thing. If I could have just one wish I would say that for just one day that no one would say my name. And I could spend the day doing my thing and not have to say I dont know everything. But im not that lucky and it just sucks but thats just me. Do you know what I mean?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem