My heart is broken,
My words now spoken,
Cannot explain the pain,
The blood the death is plain,
Im doomed I hurt alone,
In this hell i once called home,
I lived and loved all,
Now my enemys can see me fall,
The people from which ive been betrayed,
Consider this another game well played,
Mother please dont drown in grief,
For to me this has been a relif,
For those who cared i have one more thing to say,
Dont remember me any more anyday
With all my poems please make a book,
and consider this another life took,
Im sorry i used that knife,
Im sorry i took my life,
Im sorry i said i was fine i lied.
Im sorry i commited suicide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That feeling is not unusual and just about everybody has it at some point in time, the real trick is deciding why you chose not to die! Frankly, that is not always an easy question to answer. Wright another poem and one more day you'll live Chose the alternative, and you've nothing more to give!