I’ve always hopes to die in my sleep,
Lost in my endless dreams of wonder and loss.
Soundless.
Perfect.

No one would say something otherwise.
Or know for that matter.
Which is fine.
To be alone means less to hurt.

That’s the purpose.
Have less.
Hurt less.
Know no one.
Keep to yourself.
That’s the rule.

Thus dying in ones sleep,
Would be the perfect way to go.
Nothing more after that.  

No pain.
No love.
No happiness.
Nothing is just what I needed.