She sways to the beat
A feeling of a major street
Kicking her in the knees
Wish she could get pleased
She is an imperfect me
Don't know what girl I wannabe
Send me a bouquet
For all the mistakes
The shadows of my breath
Perfect and imperfect never met
But one day we will see
The value of the imperfect me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem