The burning, the bleeding,
This is what comes with every slice
The relief, the satisfaction
That’s what comes from the knife.
Those of you who don’t know
May call me a freak
My silent cry in the night
You may say that I am weak
With every cut that the razor brings
My blood pours to the floor
A subtle satisfaction
I feel it I see it everyday
The scars that just don’t go away.
i know what thats like.............thats something i can understand chelsi
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow...this is really good...