Grand Exit Poem by Ash Desrocher
Grand Exit
My eyes are foggy
mind corrupted
arms bleeding out
from every cut it ever consumed.
People ask if I'm okay,
but the voices call them liars,
telling me they want more pain,
for me to feel okay.
There's no room for scars anymore,
cause the red glows on my arm,
red dripping from the bathtub.
No one else around me to ask me again,
if i'm okay because by tomorrow,
I won't be around anymore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/8/2024 11:06:54 PM # 1.0.0.1119
