I remember too well about falling.
And in my sleep, I said those words I hate
because all they brought me was pain and rage.
That look made me weak and left me crawling.
I thought “just maybe, ” so I kept stalling;
I recall crying when I heard that name
and I can never go back to that place;
I remember too well about falling.
So shall I cut your wrists and let you float?
on down a river filled with dead bodies;
filled with dead flesh, yet they all scream in pain.
They move about, and climb into our boat.
Throw you in; their hunger that of zombies.
I scream and yet I whisper, “why my vein? ”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem