Why is life so harsh and cruel?
with everyone using hate as fuel.
in this life so dark and frightful.
why is death so insightful?
a cut on the wrist may seem the way ahead.
but with bloodied skin the way stops dead.
The Darkness marks an empty truth.
take my bloodied wrist. as empty proof.
Why is my life so wrong and hated?
Why was i even created....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem