When the apocalypse comes, I will remember the days I was not allowed to be myself.
When the land will tremor, the insects inside me will crawl towards the edge of my soul.
The regrets beneath me will lay out like a web of cracks on an aged wall with no end.
When my body will be underneath the fallen ceiling, I will wail remembering the burden of my emptiness that once felt like nothingness.
When the keepers of my soul will put a name to my existence, I will designate it as "life",
And if they tell me that reincarnation is real, I will still want to be me but with a different mind,
And in any parallel world, if flowers would fall from the sky, I will want to be me but with a different heart,
And if they will tell me that life will be short, I'll be a chirping bird in the eyes of my cat.
I'll be the sound of dripping water that fascinates a little girl.
I'll be a saccharine melody in the times of war.
I'll be a moment of an autumn leaf falling onto a bed of dry leaves.
I'll be a nimbus cloud to a deserted barren land.
I'll be a book in the bag of a poor boy.
I'll be a candy in the hands of a child,
I'll be the essence of lilies to a pleasing garden.
I'll be a beam of revolt to a captured slave.
I'll be a proud smile on a martyr's mother.
I'll be the infinite possibilities of incarnation after the apocalypse.

There is still an echo similar to a giggle.

So far away that heart can barely feel them and the mind can barely touch them. So faded away in the fog of despair, I embarked on a journey while floating on the waves of my memory.

Laughter so dying,

Residing in the corner of a decaying reminiscence.

Laughter so dying,

Erasing from the brain like a remembrance of a bird passing by.

Laughter so dying,

Sinking in the depths of hopelessness.

Laughter so dying,

Misery feeds upon contentment and serenity is overwhelmed by emptiness.

Laughter so dying,

It stays in our chest forever, slowly building a house, now called grief, that once was home to decaying laughter.