It spins out of my hands.
Sharp and painful.
Blood runs down my arm.
I stare at it in curiosity.
Who knew something so dull...
Could be so sharp.
The pain pulses through me.
Reminding me of my lost purpose.
Salty kisses on my cheeks.
Is any of this real?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem