I am the wrong of everything
that makes my once here world long gone,
the bitterness which haunts my life,
the no victory no defeat but also no peace,
the no love no hate but also no calm
but never excitement. always silence.

I am the terrible of whatsoever
makes its way into it all,
the disgustingness of solitude,
the loneliness of thought.

I am the reason for the something else,
though it matters to no one to me,
I am the ****** of the goodnight dear sleep well,
the goneness of the now.