Everyone leaves they always do, but I guess I understand, cause I'd leave myself too. I said I was fine but that was a lie, you'll never know how much I want to die. If I showed you my scars, you'd say it was for attention. But all the hurt is what I didn't mention. The hurt it took to first pick up that knife, hurt enough for me to end my life. No one cares until your finally dead. By then this poem will have been read.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem