A knife in my hand
cuts on my wrists.
Its only what it looks like,
no more jists.
I'm done with pretending,
I'm finished with pain,
If he can't save me
Nor can this chain.
It's wrapped around me
Coiling over and dares
To cause me the pain
Of which no-body cares.
For one last time,
For dying hopes,
I scream to the world
As my last day elopes.
But instead of silence,
I hear words in the distance
Telling me to hold on
To continue my existence.
I run towards that voice,
dropping the knife,
This is the guy
That saved my life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
LUCKY - sad that people cut today