An emotional side effect to an unhappy life
Becomes all the more real as I reach for the knife
My intent is not to harm another human being
For it’s my damaged soul that I will be freeing
While all the time I feel like a toy left high on a shelf
I feel only shame as I struggle to compose myself
I do not wish for your reluctant pity or hate
For your realization of my hurt is far too late
As the blade cuts down its peace I can taste
I feel so faithless with every second I waste
The site of the crimson blood I scream
I then wake up and realize it’s only a dream
But soon I have flash backs of paralyzing fear
Was it a dream or is death really here
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem