Who knew that every smile
was hiding her sorrows for awhile.
Who knew that her morning sickness
was what she said is her only weakness,
From the pain she's always had
but what from?
Her lost dad?
No she said to her angel one day
I'm sick of living take me away! ! !
Then she held the blade to her wrist
and cut.
Now she remains in a black abyss.
Dead
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem