the world is fading away - blues to gray, oceans to ash. there is death on the lips of strangers, in the eyes of my
family, in the soul of my lover.
my fingers are turning blue.

every day, the same song is played - beginning with solo piano, a somber, bleak melody, soon joined by strings and a clear soprano voice, echoing and piercing, ominous, haunting.

it is the prettiest death march I have ever heard.

fire consumes the trees, the sky, houses and buildings, but it cannot touch my heart, covered in ice and snow.

the river runs red with blood.

blood from strangers, my family, my lover.

and I am alone, waiting for death.
I am surrounded by red rivers and
ash-filled seas, fire - but death has only
taken my skin, bruised and black, and my heart, not my soul.

the sky is drenched in darkness.

I prepare their epitaphs as blood rains from the swollen sky.