Everything around me wither hurts or dies
It never lasts that long, but it does lie
My head spins and aches from the whirling stress
I always seek solace from what is my death
Going there for comfort and letting gout my breath
It never judges me for what I am
But I can see from it’s glance that it wants me dead
It hurts like metal cutting the skin, but the truth is…
I want me dead too
Never lying about what’s going to happen
About the people it tortures and everything it kills
I know what it can do, but never stop it
I stand by and watch its destruction
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem