One slash of the wrist
and my tears have been bled
drops of crimsion agony
It's gone to my head
the pain it is torture
sinful we are bred
My blood pools are healing
or so I've been told
tolerance hit the ceiling
fifteen is just too old
When my tears have been bled
my vains sit dry
I'll lie in my bed
and slowly I'll die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is totally my type! ! Deep one too. Keep up the good work ;)