The paper absorbs the ink that my pen steady bleeds, the outcome are words that expose a hidden me. I try to hide my cries, but my pen defies my will, it has this need to write the pain I really feel.
My life is on these sheets, all the times that I am weak, all the things that I cant express to the people close to me. I cant see the paper, I cant control my hands, they write down all my anger, my pen bleeds when I am sad.
I cant continue fighting, I cant continue lieing, I pretend that I am stronger but inside I am dieing. So I try to hide my pain inside and rip apart the sheets, but every time i need to cry, my pen it steady bleeds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem