In my eyes, I see a dark forest.
A foggy morning in the monochromatic forest.
Cold and wet leaves and shadows starring,
directly at me.
The forest sleeps with a hunger in the inside.
It speaks when hope appears to be founds.
Strange voices screech when no source of light is found, no hope for life is found.
They demand the creatures life, to repent.
In my life, I saw death of hope.
The funeral of happiness and the burial of love.
Despaired, devastated soul and a hand full of days left to suffer.
The crematorium of solitude groans in sorrow.
It asks for a glimpse of light and life once.
The torment and screeching of the happiest,
No life found, what exists is the void in the pyre.
The Solitude of A Crematorium.
