My way of life you do not know.
For I have to cut and burn.
Just to feel some kind of life.
If I did not do this I would be dead.
I have to get the pain out.
I can't continue to be a zombie.
I don't like cutting.
Honestly I don't.
And it's not a pretty sight.
But it's not like I have much choice.
I am without a voice.
I hope my way of life you do not know.
For this I would'nt wish on anybody.
Apart from the scum,
the scum who abused me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Probably one of your better ones Amy. Seems to flow quite well and probably one a worrying amount of teenagers could relate to. Good