Skies bled and rivers cried
Fish died from suffocating oil
Forest was set on fire
I had a gun, but I used a knife
Now I run from your eyes
Failed attempt
My walls building up
Spiders almost got me
Blood frosted moon
And a deeply dimmed sun
I used a knife, when I could've used a loaded gun
I always make it so hard, for my own health
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem