I used to write
to let the poison ooze
from my heart
and
keep my away
from my knife.
Better known as 'cat.'
Now,
I'm writing to tell you
it's lost it's magic
and I'm floundering.
I've lost
my 'healthy'
way to vent.
my other ways...
let's just say they're not so great.
I'm loosing will
and fast.
Does anyone notice?
What about you?
Yes, you. The one reading this poem.
Do you care?
It's okay,
your answer doesn't surprise me.
But,
back to my fast erasing will.
My shoulder scarred.
I tried to switch,
find a place for the marks
that's outta sight.
It didn't work,
wasn't the same.
Was just pain
mixed with more pain.
Just didn't do it for me.
Things are changing
things are ending.
Will you?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem