I’m tired of keeping it all
fucking bottled inside
And I no longer want it to hide it
I want all the pain to show
For everyone to see
As long as they do not speak.
They only think it’s bad
But because they don’t understand;
What normal person would put razors to their wrists
And yeah I know it sounds sick,
But I’m captivated by the look of it.
They are so memorizing and pretty…
I honestly think they are beautiful:
Those bloody slits and scratches.
You see, those scars show the pain
That I want so badly seen
That the cuts appeal to me
Because it is my sickness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem