She leans against the cold hard wall.
Her head tilting backwards,
Wishing, almost craving for her too fall.
She breathes in the pain,
it paces thru her veins.
Blood splatters the floor,
someone is banging on the door.
She sighs, cleans up.
And begins another lie.
Another day of her so called 'life'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting and very thoughtful