Voices in my head, haunted screams torture my mind every night and I feel the spiders crawl in their web yet again
Dreams are made winding through my head, through my head,
before I again am awake
But those screams of hunger and war they’ll do anything to tear me apart, and I cry blood
I’m chilling with a gun in my hand,
is it tonight I’ll make the screams stop?
Those schizophrenic conversations that I always have with myself,
will I ever get enough?
Someone tried to tell me something,
but nothing will do me in before I do myself
So will I let them win or should I just let me die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem