Sharply slicing through my skin,
Waiting for blood to begin.
Overpowered by my past,
How will this depression last?
No one to turn to for no one cares,
No longer is death one of my fears.
The beauty of death is easy to see,
Couldn’t see it before; happy was me.
Crying myself to sleep every night,
I wish my life would just take its flight.
Slowly my pain is turning me gray,
Why did these ordeals lead me to stray?
Devoured by darkness, with no light to see,
The path I have led isn’t the key.
Screaming out for some ones help,
But your ignorance brings my doubt.
Blinded my clever deception,
And yet you point out my imperfection.
All this terror brings so much strife,
Till death do we part, me and my knife.
I fully identify with the sentiments expressed here; perhaps it is sad from one so young, but nevertheless it is a good thing to write down all your feelings at any age. Always remember Amy, that you are still only 15 and you have your whole life in front of you. Kindest regards, Eddie.
The knife is not your solution to end your depression but you need times to heal till someones out there is ready to be your other lives! ! ! nice piece Amy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good one Amy....the lines truly pictures the state of depressed mind....a much matured lines from a growing poet......sebastine