Three stalls
where i go when i cant go home
Three stalls
where my make-up is smeered
Three stalls
where i hold my breath so nobody can here
The first stall is for Anger
When i can't hold on
The Second stall is for guilt
When i have betrayed a freind
Third stall is the one visited most
The one of issues
The one i hold my knee's up close to me,
cluching them tight
Worrieing that someone will find me like this,
a sorrowful puddle on the floor.
I hate,
The ugly doors,
The descusting porclen
The vomet produseing smell.
But i am headed in its way when ever i leave the room.
To drain my emotions.
To feel num to the nuthing thats happening to me.......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem