The voices...
The ones in my head
Make me wish to rather be dead
The blade it speaks to me
Forces me to use it and
Become the monster I do not wish to be
That first cut changed everything in me
I saw my red blood, and felt
A sort of satisfaction
From my act of self
bodily mutilation.
My whole self was replaced.
By something dark and dangerous
Those feelings i for so long suppressed
Are now loose and cause me great stress
My head, it's spinning...
My desires always winning.
I want it
I crave it
I need it..
My blades feeds
On my blood and pain,
Makes my heart strain
Its too hard to try and change,
For the rest of my days,
I will feel this way
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A man can not change his nature. thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.