No one can see it,
but I'm dying I swear,
and if you came to my funeral,
well, what would you wear?
I don't need anymore pills,
I don't need anymore hearts.
You skinned me alive,
and took me apart.
I don't know why you cant see
the reason for everythin is you,
the life you chose
and everything you do.
Broken hearts can't cure sadness,
I guess you don't remember that.
Practice makes perfect,
but in the end, you're still trapped.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem