I did it,
and I cried.
The razor, like metal to a magnet,
was drawn to my hand.
It fit,
no matter how hard I tried.
I do not want this anymore,
I never wanted to to this again.
The nightmares,
they are too much.
I never wanted to remember his touch.
I made a mistake,
thinking I could go without it for longer.
The blades are always so much stronger.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very very good, the blades seem strong to me to...hand in there.