How fateful is it,
Finally finding myself present,
Alone as I have been,
Shadows homely and comely.

Eyes not meant for myself alone,
Ears not meant for myself alone,
Smelling not familiar sensations come summer,
Mind not meant for my own thoughts.

But come sunrises and sunsets onward,
I will see myself in the past pleading,
Begging for kind futures to be proud of,
Suicidal thoughts fighting to break through.

Come the future through pain,
Hearing the chimes of summer bells,
Sweet lives and pleasures surround me,
Only if pain is sought in the present.

This is my message to you. I know you'll see it soon. Goodbye.