Walking down a dirt road. On my journey to death. The sky starts to melt into the ground making many puddles of blood. You continue walking you start hearing screams they get clearer they're pleads for help. You see no outlet. This pain needs to be ceased. The journey continues. The pleads echo raining blood. You stop at a crossroad you see yourself there on your knees holding a bloody razor blade hundreds of scars pouring blood crying. For that moment you stop and think. You pick yourself up. The sky turns blue surrounded by green grass the wind whispers life to you. For that moment you know your okay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem