Tears stream from bloodshot eyes,
As she tries to undo the mess she made,
Is death her only option?
She believes it is,
Pulling out a blade,
It glissens in the light,
Placing it against pale flesh,
Leaving behind all she had left,
Wishing it didn't have to be like this,
Yet convinced it did,
Death becomes her they say,
I disagree,
No one should die alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem