Close your eyes to blood,
open them to scars.
The urge to make your dreams come true
almost overpowers you.
I want red beads on strings
completely covering
every inch of skin.
Is that so sickening?
Drawing with a knife
always felt so right.
Blood falling to the floor,
who could ask for more?
Open and release,
drive away the pain,
and then start it all again.
I must be insane.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem