Feet are cut... by melancholia-infested memories.
Is this my savior? My never-ending heaven I'm supposed to be in?
No, God never answered me.
Here I am, death on earth. Earth I am, both of us blend... to eternity.

No curse, no bliss.
No death to undying crisis.
You will never get the key, not on last blink.
Die, girl with a poem. Die on her last poem.

Salvation whispers.

Where do I go nooow?
Why don't I know hooow?
If I giiive eeeveryyythiiing?
I'll be less thaaan nooothiiing?

What is this really about?

If I give up nooow
Take my final booow
Will it meeean aaanyyythiiing?
Will I still beee nooothiiing?

I don't think I'm willing to find out

©2025

"The moon is beautiful isn't it?"
he says.

"I prefer the sunset"
she said.