Not a night goes by that I can relax...If I ask for help no one comes...They runaway leave you abandoned...They dont understand. You cant tell. It cant get out keep it a secret. You have to tell. It has to get out let it out. Its good to know that death is my friend and that i can trust this bloody razor to let it all out and keep silent. Thats when I know im safe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem