I don’t need help
I don’t cry for help
I don’t cry for attention
I don’t cry at all
My wrists cry for me
All I want and need is care
My bleeding wrist is a way of speaking
Speaking my words only for me to hear
No one ever listens
No one really wants to hear
Hearing my words would do no good
All it would do is bring heart break and fear
No one really cares what I have to say
So my wrist bleeds so I can hear what I have to say
Some only say they care because they fear
Fear that I will hurt or kill myself
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Strikingly honest. Pure poetry