Hold it.
Cherish it.
Cut it out.
It doesn't matter.
Cut out everything.
Dying inside.
Cut until there's nothing left.
A hollow shell of what I was.
A shadow of what we were.
Now cut the vein.
And I drown,
In a river of blood.
Lost in the current.
Dying outside.
Skin turns white.
Blood flows down..
Skin turns red.
Lips turn blue.
Dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem