My Blood Turns to Daggers,
Shooting up my Veins.
Stabbing and tearing the Contents of my Heart,
Sent Straight to the Brain.
Hopeless and Desolate
My Fear Melts to Pain.
but Everytime I ask Myself
My only Thoughts Insane.
I Cannot Cry, I Cannot Speak,
To do Either Proves I'm Weak.
to Hate Every Breath
For spiking The Sharpest Pain.
I Hate the Smallest Step,
For Drawing every scent of Shame.
It Fills the Rooms I Enter,
and Infects the Ones Who Know.
The Ones Who Fear the Shame They Own,
Suffocate Through Thoughts Below.
My Blood Turns to Daggers,
Shooting up My Veins
Stabbing and Tearing the Contents of My Heart,
Everytime She Turns Me Away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem is so deep. I love it. I love the stanza 'I Cannot Cry, I Cannot Speak, To do Either Proves I'm Weak.' its just so...overpowering. Good Job **Tyease**