It...

It’s around now nine,
Can’t get around the hole of my mind,
My despair like a gray cloth,
My red eyes tired of myself.
The gray days, the gray houses, the gray prison,
An unspeakable desire to put an end to this life.

I’m washed out by the rain, the cold asphalt hitting my face,
Horror and nightmare in visions,
Oh! What will they say?!
How will the act? What will I hear?
Poison of their tongues on my tongue,
The bitter taste of death and the plague,
Visions of my horrid face looking out the window,
Where everything is dead,
The loved ones are buried,
The angst and the hunger,
Destroying my body.

The flower that bloomed…
So ugly, so pale…just a corpse in my garden,
And my scarred body shivers in the cold of my winter,
Surviving a torture, a damnation, a curse,
My vision blurred by the gray,
The crystalline tears run through my face,
Asking myself, “When will it end?”.

By F.E.D, (C)2008