I am a suicidal being made of icy glares and frowns.
Deep scowls, harsh words and a conflicting soul.
Cold, unkempt, dark; made of more hate than love.
I fight with myself each day, cry every night.
I belong to the darkness, is it a thing to be frightened of?
I live with ghouls and demons are they scarier than humans?
I walk on a path made of glass shards; do they hurt more than your words?
I stand all alone in this world, is it better than staying with you?
I stare at my nightmares coming alive, are they more terrifying than this world?
No they aren't.
Humans are scarier, with sweet costumes on,
but inside – we beat even beat demons, my child.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Truly, Humans are scarier, with sweet costumes on, but inside – we beat even beat demons, Loved reading the poem