the cuts begin 2 heal
but the pain never dies
it stays in this hand
and forces down this blade
for the blade is like a drug
and the pain will hide
but only for a while
and that makes him smile
as the pain starts to mild
and he begins to smile
with tears rolling down
he stops and frowns
he relized whut he did
so he ran and hid
but he couldn't stand the pain
so he disided to slit the vain
and with one final cry
he said good bye
and he slit his wrist
then fell in the mist.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow. thats a very well written poem with alot of emotion