living in a place where love doesn't exist
filled with the madness expressed upon my wrists
voices talking in my head taunting me secretly
left to wounder on my own all i have is myself i am my own security
twisted fates and split personalities pitter patter through conversations in my head
telling me in sequence what i should do but must be kept unsaid
the emptiness that fills my very existence is displayed through my eyes
the display is captured and used to fill my head with lies
the world is more wicked than the voices in my head that speak
so therefore from the torment wickedness bestowed all across my forearms madness clearly leaks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem