Sixteen years,
One moon.
All her fears
Have fully bloomed.
All the scars,
All the lies,
All the sadness
In her eyes.
She had to be alone.
He had calmed her down,
But all she could express
Was an involuntary frown.
As she lay there that night,
Trying with all her might...
She couldn't stand the pain.
And they thought it was just a game.
She didn't understand,
And couldn't bear it anymore.
So she lay down with the razor,
On the cold bathroom floor.
There, in that moment,
Everything was fine.
Tied together, finally,
By those thick red lines.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A haunting poem, but a great recovery, Shelby. Keep writing Peace