'The tourniquet is too tight" was all what you wanted to say.
Maybe I had punctured myself too many times, to not listen to yelps.
All what you wanted to do, was help.
But I was transfixed on the drug.
Like that Cephalic vein, I probably blocked you.
The intention was not that too.
With passionate big eyes, you looked with care.
Luring, you wanted yourself to be my cure.
Where-as I was being a jerk.
All what I wanted was another Catheter.
Bleeding or the pain was not what I counted,
All that matters is, all your stares went un-accounted.
"Seeking Help" was what I said, when I met you.
All that in vain, I maybe even destroyed you.
Whilst we were together, the future seemed bright.
But the truth, I was the one who could never decide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem