That razor looks so perfect
Shiny and sharp
I pick it up
I look at it up
Understand it
Feel it
Test it
Soon the shiny sharp object
Touches my skin
I feel a prick
Than a pinch
Soon my skin
Has a cut
Little blood droplets form
Soon it’s running down my arm
More and more cover my arm
The pain subsides
But my arm IS covered with blood
Little rivers of blood
Rivets drying there
I seek Help
I feel guilty
I start to sob
All this a memory
Flood back as one
Making me sad
Depressed even
Nothing can cheer me up
But everything can bring me down.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem