agony and self destruction
a never ending worry
with tiny drops chasing down
into a winter flurry
friends cant stop my paper cuts
and though they wish they tried
had never thought to look up once
to see that i had died
i'll scrape and scar and cry again
all over my sheets
and into terror, i will drift
back into a sleep
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem