You walk in the door no one does anything
Your walk to your room without a word
They say nothing
Their silence is the wound, it is the sword
You take the knife from your table
You slit you wrists and watch the blood drip
They wouldn't help even if they were able
They would just smurk and curve their lip
The blood slowly drips to your bed
This is where sorrow has led
For tomorrow you will be dead
Your eyes search for answers, they look deep
The knife shines red, as you turn it
Tonight you will forever sleep
The room is lightly lit
Tomorrow will never come
This you know
A distant horror for most yet a dream for some
Some say it's black as night others as white as snow
The blood slowly drips to your bed
This is where sorrow has led
For tomorrow you will be dead
Your mind is filled with pain
Waiting, waiting for a sign
The lamb will rest with the lion head on his maine
You think as you watch 'I know no future, but this is mine.'
Your heart beats it's last beats
Your eye lids close and your head falls
It is the creator you will meet
When you think this you smiles and then your heart stalls
The blood slowly drips to the bed
This is where sorrow has led
For now you are dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is probably the closest you will come to actually describing what it means for people to be alone. The 2nd worst wound in my opinion is being alone or being ignored by the people you hold dear to your heart. I know what you mean when you say 'you walk to your room without a word, they say nothing' Ive felt the same way, but hey if you actually felt this way then hopefully we'll both make it another day. Hopefully. oh, this is a VERY GOOD poem by the way. I really like it.