Cutting-what a rush! As the blade and me touch.
The blood rushing through my viens, leaks
out-the bed it stains. My heart races to catch up
with every slit, but the rush is too much.
I cut again and again. Faster and deeper-untill
they no more leak _ until there's noting left except
bloodied sheets.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
:) I really like this poem, but this addiction can take over us.. were going under.