It’s true
It hurts a lot
But it’s what seems to help when we feel blue
And yet we all know it only thickens the plot
The red river runs down the valley only to be spilled
In order to preserve what we can
And because the terrible feelings we have must be killed
Yet it never seems to go according to plan
It releases us from bonds of oppression
Enlightens our mind to our trouble
Or actually it just furthers our depression
As we see our problems double
With all these pains still locked away
Why do we do what we do?
It’s not to get rid of them because they always seem to stay
So to be honest, I have absolutely no clue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem