I sit here alone
I must breathe carefully
My breaths slow down
And my pain increases
I drop my arms
Down to my side
The needle stays
And for whatever reason
I realize
I could've fixed it
But it's too late now
I scream inside
The last thing I see
Is the ceiling
Died alone
With no accomplishments
In Monterey Park
-I figured out how to live too late
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem