Ruined

I don't remember my face,

I don't count wrinkles.

I have never created idols

For worshipping and hating them.

I keep terrible secrets

Of those who are gone.

When clay knocked their coffins

I was standing alone...

If I could see the absence of a sense...

If I could hear but not listen...

If I could know life is so empty...

A curtain would drop earlier...

It feels like strings vibrating

Somewhere inside of me...

The source of my life pulsates

Deep in inner devouring horror...

A torrent of words reflecting my thoughts

Falls by downpour unto me...

I behold a world of parallels

Painted by withering imagination...

Now I set free the warm of life

Through a door closed so long ago,

Now I get used to feel cold,

I escape this reality... Ruined...