I hold the knife,
Firmly in my hand.
I look out the window,
Into this vast land.
You're still lying there,
Lifeless on the floor.
I dropp the knife beside you,
And walk out the front door.
Maybe I'll get caught,
Perhaps I'll go to jail.
One thing's for sure,
My soul is damned to Hell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem