I fear that the night won't end,
That my endless ceiling continues.
'Til the soft orange glow hits my eyes,
Slowly creeping, this silent darkness.
I fear to wake up in a loop,
Of brandishing blades of memories.
Those I long and love before,
Now I long to ran away from.
I fear the insignificance of my time,
To wake up one day just to die.
To finally feel how to not feel,
To care for the day I will not.
I fear that we are just dust,
Nothing to offer only withered touch.
No markings etched, no jars of mud,
Born from dust, return as dust.