I wake up in the morning to the cold morning breeze.
I feel the loneliness and desperation clinging to my breath.
I walk up to my dresser and find a razor in sight.
I take it and hold it to my wrist only to feel the cold sharp sting of the blade. Suddenly I realize that one cut could not save me from the bondage of self.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem