Send me an angel,
To get through this mangled play.
The scenes repeating themselves,
over and over again in my head.
I see red.
Blood rushing from my wrist.
Can I clear this mist?
Make it transparent again,
For this is making me sick...
I don't want the past,
just the future!
Maybe not even that,
I lay here on this bed flat,
Thinking I need an angel or no pain at all.
I could possibly fall,
So deep your love won't even bring me back.
Thinking that taking these bottles of pills,
Will send me to an angel.
Somewhere I won't be in pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem