I have my pen and my ink.
Every letter, every word, and even every sentence
Makes my blood run onto the paper
I am not sure there is so much for me to do
My blood is on every piece
Every piece that I write spills more and more blood
For there is no other way escape
What does it matter that I can't say the words I write?
I am shy
And that's why everyone says rude words to me
They think that no matter what they say
I won't break
But what if I was already broken long ago