I always wished to be loved,
to be held and to be hugged.
But now I find it's overrated,
and so much easier to just be hated.
I once loved, I trusted and hugged,
but before long I was betrayed,
and forevermore unable to trade.
I tried to trust and love again but once,
I got close once more and then was I slayed.
Even though the cuts have healed,
They still lay there beneath my shield.
In a sense I've survived,
only by knowing I must decide.
I have ambitions and futures and hopes,
and to prove my strength they shall never be revoked.
The knife sits under my bed,
never knowing when next it shall shed.
My tiny ray of hope lies in that knife,
maybe I'll start to live another night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very realistic emotions!