In a room behind closed doors
My trembling hand reached for the blade
My sentimental mind can take no more
On the bed in solitude was where I laid
The devil whispered in my ears
As I slowly pulled up my sleeve
Revealing scars that show so much pain
That a helpless soul have to deal with
The scars are stories written in blood
And I was about to continue the script
Willingly I let the knife caress my skin
In horrid silence you can hear the red drip
And it's like every drop carried pain away
Leaving my body so I can have peace
Leave me alone in my room but
It'll last only until tomorrow at least
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem