She sits alone
her head down
hair in her face
covering up her tear filled eyes
She has no fate
but who would blame
her life so full of pain
what kind of a god would cause all that
She cuts her wrist
but them she hides
not wanted anyone to see
how depressed she is and call her a freak
She balls her fist
when she's mad
and blows she makes
into the cold hard brick wall
She wishes for suicide
no one would care
thats what she believes
so she will end her life, with her beloved knife
She is gone
'so she will end her life, with her beloved knife' Can we support this sort of poem?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Suicide must never be considered. The reason lies in the poem itself. No one cares anyway.