If you saw me five minutes ago,
You’d have thought I was crazy,
Ripping up paper like it was evil;
Oh, but it was, just in my mind.
The memories of what was on it,
And how the choir used to sing it,
This was tearing me apart,
So I tore these papers apart.
So what was on those papers?
Sheet music, are you surprised?
And if I had to suffer a few paper cuts,
Just to bring peace to my mind,
Then I’d endure my whole hand in blood,
Just to shred up my past and leave it behind.
If you saw me five minutes ago,
You’d have thought I was crazy.
But it would’ve been insane of me
To not have thrown these shreds away.
The truth is, though,
I will never forget that year
No matter how much I want to.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem