When I was 11,
Or maybe 13,
Maybe it wasn’t even me,
I watched a TV show with a woman that had gone mad,
Watched all the things she did,
Maybe really wasn’t me,
Maybe I didn’t even exist back then,
Maybe I still don’t exist,
I loved the way that woman moved,
I loved the things she did,
And so I decided to pretend to go mad,
Just to move the same way,
Just to be allowed the same things,
The same mistakes,
I followed her every move,
Her every movement,
But, on my way,
I lost myself,
I didn’t know if I went mad,
I didn’t know if just became that way,
Maybe that wasn’t me that ended up slitting her wrist.
And so one day,
When I couldn’t find my way,
When I couldn’t help myself,
From feeling this way,
I imagined I froze,
I imagined that I closed the door,
Filled the bath with water cold,
And I saw the stars,
Up in heaven, shining,
There calling me, up there,
Come here now, here now,
And I slit my wrist, slit my wrist,
I cut it down,
Cut the road through and through,
And before I knew,
I was gone, I was gone,
Maybe it wasn’t me, wasn’t me,
Can’t remember,
Anything, anything,
All I know is that the pain,
Had gone away,
And peace came, peace came,
Stole me away, stole me away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love it... Love you <3