I think I'll be alone. a rose in my hands to be dramatic, I always enjoyed it, as I walk on a steep, mountainous trail where the winds mess up my hair and clothing. It's a full moon night and I can feel the stones piercing the soles of my feet and the fear piercing my heart. while I stand on a stone walkway and look down, and down, after the black veil that covers the abyss and beyond, where nothing matters, nothing feels or nothing lives. I want my body to get there, I desperately want it because my soul is already there.
unfortunately situations like this only exist in poems, so that the perfect scenario is for me anybody what makes me die.