The dim light
Illumimates my pain
This knife is a tool
A tool that grabs and pulls
At my porcelain skin
Crimson stains my skin
Pools at the opening
Drips onto the floor
A single dropp of velvet liquid
Runs down my arm
Making a blood-red trail
A trail I've walked
Too many times
A line that divides me
Between insane
And insecure
My world goes black
The knife hits the floor
My muscles grow limp
A cold wind creeps
Along my cold body
A soft voice whispers,
'You are not wanted,
Not needed,
Not loved.'
I wake to the sound
Of ringing in my ears
And the welcoming dim light
That illuminates my shame
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem