My skin is howling for the pain.
I can do it again.
I have to do it again
my skin want me to.
I can't hurt no more than what I already do.
So here I am I take the final straw.
And I rip and slip into the darkness beyond.
I can't let go of this feeling, that I am screaming.
Torture hurt and pain.
Am I going insane.
As I wash out all the stains.
It's all most scary when this is your twisted sense of relife.
No more short sleeved tops not untill the end of time.
No more looking nice
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem