Is it wrong of me to dream of dying
To give up and just stop trying
To fantasize of pools of red
Of my lifeless body, cold and dead
To smile at the thought of cutting my wrists
My life at the mercy of my own fingertips
To imagine how long it would take
And what of my choice my friends would make
To be attracted to this traumatic end
To know my wounds will never mend
To dream of my last goodbye
Of the way I wish to die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem