Blood spills from my mouth
As screams come out
You touch me all over
I squirm from being uncomfortable
You laugh
I cry
No one is coming
I think I'm going to die
One last thing to say
Is I hope you burn
Rot in jail you hag
As I say that you stuff me in a bag
Then I die
I move into the light
Good Night
I will put up a fight....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem