Sitting up in my room, thinking of suicide
Staring at the knife, I really hate my life
I look back and discover, I accomplished nothing
it's what the voice inside tells me
suicide will put an end to the hurt, pain and suffering
Lights turned down, here in the dark
Holding onto the knife that will take it all away
none of these people i think of, don't care
when I think of myself, i'm so ashamed
knife crossed my skin
As I watch the blood pour out
I ain't fading quick enough
So I make five more attempts
before i made the final attempt
by stabbing myself in the heart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem