Do I have to paint on the wall with my own blood,
For you to see what you mean to me.
Or count to three you’ll see what you been dying to see.
Pull the trigger watch my veins explode,
Not with blood but with lies.
Is that what you wanted the whole time,
The truth.
you would just asked for the proof.
No one would tell you.
Your just jaded when you talk,
Maybe it’s in your walk.
When our conversations run dry,
You blame me,
How can you blame me when it’s,
Only you looking at your own reflection.
See I never was anything,
I was an image in your head.
Now you lay on the ground,
Blood all around you.
You painted the wall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem