What do you think of my poem?

Heyy, don't be so strict with the RS, hahah. I just want your opinion, and I've written another one (or several, but this one is so relevant).

Sami, Sami, Samuel, Samu. I thought you were someone else, but you're special. We met by chance.

I was hurt, you understood me passionately.

How can that be? You no longer believe, no. Whether science or God, no mockery. It didn't happen without a reason, you're a gold find. Pray for your knee, it will heal soon. Now you know about me, you want to hug me, you're ready to feel pity. I, however, don't see it as so dramatic. I'm modest, afraid of being touched, afraid of falling, and don't want to have a crush, but you are perfect. Am I a project? No matter, you are correct and ideal, but what do I know, maybe it's normal. In any case, I fall in love with the way you understand me and listen to me. Only you should know, we have similar fates. You and I. Samuel. S stands for strength. You've had to go through too much, it breaks my heart, and it's not about me. Your father is a wanker, your spit in his face. Revenge is not good, but S stands for my pride and M for your courage. You lock it, I screw it up every time, it's fcked up. L for L0ser. O for 0pfer. R for R!tzen, I'm serving time in jail.

I wrote to Marg at night: "How are you? How was your day?" Deep down, superficial, it doesn't matter, I trust you and only know you digitally. "Lubie cie" "je t'aime bien aussi"

Wrote about everything, you know me better than my mother. You see my smooth scars and I know yours, promised to stop, all you can do is hate me. Hate me, hate you. Do I matter now? You're home, I don't, why so suddenly, I don't understand.

I think about you every day, I think you don't like me. I think a lot, I deliberately try not to distract myself.

Why am I making such a fuss? I have a lot of bad kama. We know each other well, but not for long. It happened too fast for me; it stresses me out. I insult you. My ankles are swollen and red and blue, the sky is gray. What did I expect? Nothing more than this, anyway. Of course, you have your life, your problems, your friends, but I was dreaming. Your messages without a face often appeared to me. Blood on the floor, it grinds unexpectedly.

A short message from you makes me melt. I'm lost and dependent on attention. I'm being forgotten. I have no one around who knows, it's worse than before, I'm going around in circles. So much worse. I wish I could swallow my words again and never spit them out. I want to sew my mouth shut, bind my hands tightly, and let no one find my thoughts.