Clutching a journal
Crying alone
She sits on the corner of her bed
Wicked storms.
Those who hate her.
Terrible thoughts in her head.
Cheating and lying
She'd stopped this
One more lie. 'Never Again'
Tearing at her flesh
Writing a song
She loses herself instead
The words make no sense
Only to her
Memories she can't forget
Dirty, hated. Unreal. She can't feel.
Crying. Lying. Unreal. She can't feel.
Tearing up the pages
Of imperfect phrases
She hates what's inside
She doesn't want to cry
She's a concrete angel
In a world of strangers
No one can crack her shell
She hates to lie.
But she says 'i'm fine'
She's not crazy, she's just unwell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This in incredibly deep. I especially love the lines Dirty, hated. Unreal. She can't feel. Crying. Lying. Unreal. She can't feel.