All over my arms,
the reminder of my pain,
constant,
there,
for the whole world to see.
Those lines,
of crimson red,
traveling up my skin,
as I let the water sting.
More pain,
more harm,
everything is gone now,
but those red lines remain now,
untouched.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem