My love came.
He found the key to my heart.
He ran away with it.
I didn't think it could hurt this bad.
Changing it up.
It ended for the better.
Now I hide the cuts with a sweater.
Cuts that have another story.
Pain I inflicted.
Makes me sicken.
I'm done with depression that starts with a knife.
9/6/09
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem