My feet stumble forward,
I walk upon the path I've been designated to walk,
Perfect to the eye, yet perfectly unseen,
I'm the lie within all your truths,
The blood that poors from razor kissed wrists,
These veins hold such sanctity,
I believed what ran through them was left inseperable,
yet one insision, had it eager to leave,
Bloody weeps from wrists thought incapable of tears,
Blood pours as regret spills.
Left alone, Crimson Shall cry,
The strong have become weak, and so have I.\
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'yet one insision, had it eager to leave, Bloody weeps from the wrists thought incapable of tears, Blood pours as regret spills.' outstanding lines! outstanding poem! those who think they're weak... really are strong just are too easily fallen in the temptation wonderful wirte Crimson! do keep it up: D ~Bella