Cutting is an outlet
a way to express myself
it isn't for attention
its to drag my demons out
The demons that make me hurt
the demons that make me cry
the demons that make it hard to say goodbye
the demons that take me by surprise
the monsters in my head don't scream
nor do the monsters shout
they like to whisper
and get the instructions out
They see the hero coming
they feel it cut their skin
they see the blood dripping
and they go away again
until the next time they see him
they will hide away
waiting for the perfect time
to come out and play
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem