He felt his blood rushing to his fingertips
With such flurry
With the heat radiating from his skin
Like a newly lit candle
His heart had erupted with flames
Slowly it turned into ashes
With his body as the casket
Clutching the sand that was once living
That once was a colour filled canvas
That had possessed the colours of adulation
Now only possessing the colours of acrimony
His forsaken body created friends.
Friends, with no faces
Just like a blank page
Carrying no meaning
Carrying no content
Resembling the life he lives.
