Grief is what I feel, and the belief that nothing will heal
Keeps me broken, and the wound remains open.
I can't seem to ever find the words to tell what I have done.
Instead I keep it inside, I can't tell anyone.
I'm sorry for the crime I committed.
To the Guillotine and off with my Head!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem