My face is a paradox, a constant frown
Not a reflection of my mood, but a permanent crown
Maybe it's the plaster, maybe it's the genes
A factory flaw, a glitch in the machine
But people always wonder, why so glum, chum?
I say I'm fine, but they don't buy my humdrum
Maybe I am sad, maybe I am not
But my face reveals more than I thought
So please don't ask me why I'm sad
It's not your problem, don't feel bad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem