It's Here Where She Sleeps
It's Here Where She Awakes
It's In Her Conscious
It Runs Threw Her Veins Just As Blood Does
The Blood Kept Her Alive For So Many Years
But Know It Guilt That Runs Threw Her Veins
It's The Guilt That Keeps Her Awake At Night
With The Night Sweats And Nightmares
It's The Guilt On Her Conscious
When She's Awake It's Still There The Only Thing To Do Is
Slit Her Wrist And Let All The Guilt Out And
Form A Puddle Of Death........
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem