"Come here. I'll make it quick"
Death is whispering.
The knife mocks me
The precision in the slice
Hearing Cries
Tears rolling down my face
Death is whispering.
"Hold still. It won't hurt at all"
Death is whispering.
"You can be among the ones who love you"
I knew I already was. Death was talking about my past relatives.
Death is whispering
The blood pours from my arms
Feeling dizzy and ready to faint.
Death has won.
Surrounded by nothing but darkness.
I'm in the death hole.
I hear crying all around me.
Death has won.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem