Cuts demonstrate; I'm a waste of time-
And that I waste perfectly good air,
That I am worthless beyond repair,
So please... continue to stare...
If I could I'll end it all tonight,
Like my mom said at the fragile age of 5,
I am a cancer, I deserve to die...
Yet emotions syphon my pointless life...
Keeps me breathing, Hoping For candle light
'Hostis Humanis Generis.'
That ritual for all Emo-kind...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem