I don't like the slice
It makes me feel weak
I prefer the sizzle
So euphorius I can't speak
I can cope with the cut
Usually more accepted
It's not a cry for attention
Or a wish to be dead
It simply is a tool
That helps me relieve
I don't want to talk about it
Why wont you believe?
I don't need an intervention
Or to be talked at
That's why I lie
Why would I want that?
Occasionally, if you want
We can hug it out
But I certainly wont open up
It's not to be talked about
Red and bloody
Or a silver blister
I felt like a liar
The last time I kissed her.
I will always regret
Picking up the doer
But just for now
I have to endure
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem