Some people think that when the razor slides across your arm,
that it's a part of self muterlation or even harm,
but whats the problem when it releases the pain and makes you calm.
You want the pain to deafen it's tone,
you start wanting that long life dream of a happy home,
but instead your trapped with the razor all alone.
In your head there is a story hard to tell,
you just want it gone and to forget it, you start to yell,
it all becomes to much, it's your own personal hell.
The feelings that you had,
often leave you confused and sad,
is releasing these feelings really all that bad.
You can say to stop you will try,
but deep down you start to cry,
because you know it's just another lie.
Your really sick of the pain,
but trying to stop theres really no gain,
because you know when tomorrow comes so does the razor again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem