There is blood on my hands, and I don’t care.
I don’t care about any of the people I have killed.
I don’t even know their names.
I remember how I killed them all though.
All the same. My signature, our signature.
It’s very simple, anyone could do it,
But not many have the guts to go through with it.
All you have to do is pull a trigger.
I don’t see what the big deal is?
Most people think I’m crazy, and maybe they’re right.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem