Collapse upon the blanket,
Tears,
Fall,
The famillier sharpness creeps back to haunt me,
What am I doing?
Too late to stop now,
Must finish the artwork imprinted onto my skin,
C'est manifique!
A bloody mess,
I have left on my arm,
Cuts, scars, bruises,
I can't let you in,
If you found what's in my head you'd be scared,
So you must stay outside,
And watch whilst I self destruct from system overload,
Yes I am human,
These episodes make me human,
Because I still feel the pain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem