You took my arm at the top and twisted
With diamond eyes and words of razor;
Cut my wrist and bled my arm, insisted
To trick me,
to think that red was silver
You brought regret to every word I say-
How you made me hate the sunny weather!
A wish made thirteen years ago today;
My heart still burns to see you
dead forever.
Time slows, congeals as it passes
Like blood thickening.
Your memory tastes like your ashes:
Bitter,
Sickening.
(This poem written by Alexander Eichen)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem