Why don't these thoughts ever leave my head?
What pulls the trigger to release all the memories I had sought to repress?
Who stands behind the gun?
Who wields the weapon which could easily end my life in a split second?
It hurts.
They come at the most unpredictable times.
They sneak up behind me.
They catch me off guard.
There's nothing I could possibly do to erase them.
They are here forever.
Eventually,
They'll be the death of me.
Who is holding the weapon?
Who carefully aims it straight towards me?
Myself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem