The knife cuts the skin
Blood trickles down the arm
The wrist burns
Time slipping
Life dying
Pain decreasing
Pure bliss
Heaven waits with open arms
The light is warm it welcomes me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think this subject has been done to death myself Melody. I hope your morning star shines brightly. 9 from Tai