For each part stolen,
For each day in pain,
For every touch that recoiled,
For every burning second.

I thought that maybe it'd be nearer.

For each breath that hurts,
For each night in tears.

I begged and begged for it to come faster.

When time makes a mockery out of the living,
When the greatest one just wants to prolong what he knows best.

I don't know how to act the difference between
being awake and
being alive.

What if the night ends each day with the
same resonating emptiness?

What if waking up becomes the
same as sleeping each night?

I don't know for how much longer.