I gathered my emotions
And I recalled the tears
I covered my face
As I hid from my fears
I saw what was on the horizon
Not what was in the foreground
An ocean of my own blood
Is where I would drown
The razorblade was my pencil
Revealed flesh was the pad
I felt so frustrated
I wasnt happy, but I wasn't sad
Until a calming picture was painted
Peaceful rivers began to flow
There were so many emptying out
Into the ocean forming below
As the canvas grew full
The rivers started to run dry
The sun descended over the hill
And I learned how it felt to die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem