Why do I feel so hollow;
Point? What's the point; 38,44
Minutes from now, will I still be the same person?
Should I start to plan my exit;
Wounds are only temporary, they always say
Though it seemed like such a small thing, my entrance;
Wounds always end up hurting others more.
I used to drown my troubles in drink;
Antifreeze must run through my veins, by now.
I want to keep on breathing;
Exhaust; exhausted is my hope
My heart feels like a brick;
On the accelerator, my life depends
Up just ahead, there is a bridge;
Jump! start on my new life.
When we were children, we used to play;
Dead, are all those hours
We knew we would survive, but look what we've become:
Corpses, of children once excited by life.
If only I could find some;
Pure helium, our days were filled with it.
It floated us up and away, we were dead on
Arrival; we instinctively anticipate our freedom.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem