The moon blood red, for it's tainted with my poisoned blood. Deep red drops, fall upon you. This thing inside my brain.
I can't take this pain. Slowly eating my brain away. Give me more chemicals, till I'm ill. Keep feeding me more pills.
Maybe, that mass on brain, will come to pass. Maybe that giant mass, will grow and grow, until I go.
So what's the deal? Can I heal? Follow the long road, on my journey home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem