This is my first time
I pick up the knife
I bring it to my wrist
But I stop
I am thinking of all the pain
The little I would lose
I am pressing now
I feel my skin break
I feel the warm blood run down my hand
I see the bathtub turn red
I can hear screaming
I can’t tell whose
I am fading in and out
I see people
I see panicking
It all goes black
When I wake up
I remember
I thought I would see joy
I thought I would hear laughter
I was wrong
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
its not as pansy as you think, its not good, but for some its all they have.