The cuts look good in this messed up lie
The blood that trickles down my arm
People all stare at the guy who self harms
The emo they call me
I turn to my name
They act out slicing their wrists
I hang my head in shame
I can't help my feelings
Of being alone
I hide myself for the day
Just longing to go home
I lay on my bed
With my razor in hand
And take myself away
To a much better land
I stare in the mirror
And let myself cry
Looking forward to the day
That I finally die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really like this poem also but don't try anything crazy now. jaja. It's a really good poem. =D I guess you and James got a lot on mind! ! !