He pulls the knife out
the tip dripping life
dripping onto his shirt
into the life pouring out of him
He turns the blade
in it he can see himself
a haunted reflection
framed in red
He doesn't know why
why it had to be his heart
his heart pierced
by the woman of his dreams
The dreams were so sweet
a fantasy he thought was real
a place he could survive
a place he would be happy
Waking up sucks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem