Everyday my heart breaks,
and now I wonder if I'll make it through the day.
So many memories that now haunt me,
tears I didn't allow myself to shed.
Blaming myself for everything,
and now I wonder
am I better of dead?
Surly these people whom I call friends,
would be better off not needing to worry about me,
or have to hear these sad stories.
Will I make it through the day?
Will they let me take it all away?
Or should I just do it anyway?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem