its funny how the world
seemed so sunny back then
so bright with wonder and light
but now that season is gone
The day your letters came
I would always think myself lucky
but now i think no more
I feel no more
it is not the life I wanted
and I imagine not the one you'd envisioned
but it seems this is my season
my winter, my life
it is not my custom anymore
to share what i would have long ago
everything else is a secret
my secrets
Its twisted and somehow funny to me
that i should find pleasure in
bottling myself up from the world
but you taught me how
so long ago when I was a child
when I was open and exposed
you cut my skin and now
I am dead to the world
somehow I like it better this way
it is not in my nature to feel,
to share, to expose, but only
only to dance for you
secrets I keep from you
ones I have hallowed for years now
smile for me as you read
its our twisted fate
find pleasure in the blood on your lips
and on your fingertips because it is mine
It is mine and mine alone I have haunted
haunted myself and now you
smile for our twisted fate
you showed me how to become what I am
its too bad I'm so young....
but nothing is fair these days, is it?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem