I was depressed for so long.
And after 2 months of help i thought i was free.
I was so happy.
But, like always, i was wrong, of course.
I'm thinking of cutting myself again.
Just to get away from it for the night.
But i know if i do it once, it'll come back as a bad habit like it once was.
I havent cut in two months.
I dont want to start again.
But it seems like it's all that i can do to stop me from getting too out of hand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem