Poem

Shrieking voice ov the phantoms from heaven, scattering goddesses everywhere,

Frost bitten skin, a scar that goes through the womb to the brain,

Reawakened the nightmares, flesh turned into a ship never to sail,

In the middle ov the sea it stands, cannot move to anywhere,

Darkness encloses the voices above, it loves the soul,

That is lost and found between its existence, emptiness became a loving presence,

(One,

Thought,

It all takes),

In the head, gained a new story,

Onions art slashed, diced,

Dry,

Eaten,

If I am not afraid, from all these things,

And I find comfort in the poison brew,

How can I go and die?

Or shoulth I wait for void to come?

I left no letter, no one to need me,

No one will ever know, the day I die,

My room ov death,

Was prayed by prys,

Pyre in my mind,

It is so quiet,

My Air cooler is open,

At the 19⁰ celcius,

Hours passed, and I am waiting,

With a gun in my hand, in my head,

Shrieking voices finally calmed down, after they putted me in my last scene,

My stomach is full,

My eyes art closed,

I am smiling,

When the gun shoots,

I am still smiling.