Running running running
falling falling falling
into your arms bloody
so barren so dry
warm embrace brittle
weak decrepit
what is left for me to see
what is left for me to love
about myself
bones broken
crackle and pop
pain an ecstasy
all in itself
habitual no mercy
hate only myself
forgive me
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem