When will horror end?
I’ve killed my only friend.
Dying in the park.
Can't see past the dark.
I want to face the fact.
But my heart is black.
I'm hanging from a tree.
From guilt, death set me.
free.
Before anybody complains let me explain why I have this poem here twice. A little while back a friend of mine rejigged one of my poems (I will name them if they allow me) and this was the result. I did not overwrite my original with this because it is not entirely my work and also because it lost a little bit of the original message, but I think it is still wuite good and worthy of public viewing. So any way if you like it at least half the praise should go to my (currently remaining unnamed) friend who reworked it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Okay I have recieved permission. The name of the Friend of mine who edited 'Guilt' is Rebekah Redmond