Blood from the wound does freely flow
Chances of survival, I don't know
Incessant burning
While the room continues turning
Weakening within
Continuous spin
Growing of the crimson pool
As I reach for the stool
Strength slowly fading
All alone I'm waiting
Sleep begins to overtake
While I struggle to stay awake
Light ceases to exist
The stool I have missed
Darkness all around
Unable to rise from the ground
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem