So tired
The demons lightly caressing me
And I keep on falling
I suddenly see no reason to hold on
For the questions have started to arise
And the fear is gripping me
What if those horrid dreams were visions?
What if the silent corpses were screaming a warning at the top of their lungs?
God, that smell of decay is not coming from her silent body but from my rotten soul
Only her laughter can patch my wounds together
But that laughter was shunned hanging there
And buried six feet under.