I hear voices inside my head.
Telling me I’m better off dead.
No whereto escape from the things,
I can only sit back and accept the pain.
\No longer a knife to the wrist releases the pain within,
So I raise the gun to my head and let the games begin.
With a 9mm and no one home,
A bullet to my brain is free to roam.
The 9 sounds and my pain still isn’t free
Still no one feels the pain, just me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow' how sad this poem was...