I need a hand
to lift me out of the pit of despair.
I need someone
I know will be there.
I need a smile
to fill me with glee.
I need a soul
to like me for me.
An indefinite mountain
I'm waiting to climb;
But as I'm waiting,
I'm running out of time,
Blood on the wall.
Knife to the wrist.
Do not cry,
for I shall not be missed.
When you give your heart to someone,
you don't expect it back.
But when you do,
it'll show it's not worth jack.
You watch her throw it away,
not a single tear in her eyes.
She leaves it there,
to be feasted on by flies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem