we get pass back
they are going to attack
i hit it hard
i look like a tard
i don't tell my team
that its all not what they seem
how i hurt myself
and throw things from my shelf
samantha passes to me
i really need to wee
i pass back
i look like a sack
suddenly i see their faces drop
i let in a goal i sop
even though i was at the other end of the pitch
i must kill myself now in a ditch
they start to push me
they whacked my knee
i dont understand
why astro needs sand
we get a corner
' you take it' says lorna
i go into the D
but i still need to pee
but they stoped my hit
i hadn't done my bit
now they are kicking me
it's not all cookies and tea
i run off the pitch
they shout ' little witch'
i try to run
but my legs weigh a tonne
stop it i cry
can't you see i'm going to die
why do you all pick on me
im hurting, don't you see...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem