I hold my hand, looking at the scar
Do I have to go this far?
I ask myself why do I
Why do I hurt myself, why
I am just too tired of life
All these bitter grief and strife
These pains I can no longer handle
Everything I upheld, all of it fell
I hold a cutter at my right
On my left, unimaginable fright
Not because of what I'm about to do
But what will happen if I'm not going to
I will just wake up to the new me once more
Be frightened at that depression I always wore
I'm so scared, I don't know what to do anymore
Now that the scars on my wrist are bleeding so sore
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem