bleeding wrist,
scars abound,
he hides them with great effort
pounding heart,
ripped apart,
the ones you can not see
scars are near,
blood drips,
wounds are here,
only to be reopened,
his heart belongs to none,
for the solution is so,
let blood flow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yup i feel his pain...i cut myself before so i know how much the blood flows...i wonder...is this about you? j/w -Tyease