It starting to get tiring again.
Endless cycles of wanting and searching,
of trying and hoping,
of planning and pretending.
The joy is nowhere out of sight.
The gladness is empty.
The heart is sulking.
The last days of Her life
to prepare for the death.
It’s the ode to a farewell.
Her is done.
Her is gone.
The moments Her tried to relive, but mind is all blank.
The laughter Her tried to replicate, but lips is sealed.
The panic is Her sanctuary.
The anxiety is Her hobby.
The excruciating pain becomes
An everyday part of Her.
The numbness and the guilt
stays within Her.
Her tried to find answers.
Questions are within reach.
Her buried the answer.
Agony is Her friend.
Sensitivity is Her lust.
People? What is that?
Her is done begging for love.
The darkness is Her home.
The light must stay away from Her.
Someone is in hold of Her heart.
Torturing, breaking it into pieces.
Oh, how lovely it was.
The pain makes Her smile.
Stop. Don’t do anything.
Will you even keep on trying?
Nothing happens even if Her give everything.
The world is not Her home.
The silence is Her home.
Her, close your eyes.
It’s time to let it go.
There’s no point in saving what was already dead.
Her, it’s time to go home.
Her don’t belong here.
Dark, come, embrace Her being.
Her is ready.
So long, farewell, it’s time to go.
Sweet Life 