Face the cold
morning's kiss
and you wonder tormented
piercing
once again
bear with me
fast forward
to the supposed
bliss
will now fill the void
how'd I become rotten?
all in all
an empty shell
dwindling far
from tidal waves
you are not alone
you have a grave
it is your first mother
broken will
carbon soul
neglected and forgotten
reducing my
sparks to coal
how'd I become rotten?
rotten?

considering
the mirrors of
reality
this impecunious
shell could not
even dare to die
breaking free spares
the waste of
going through
never was
nor will it be
the last nail
to
this
coffin

aiming high
or not at all
mattered not
as much as
stand and look around
old wisdom speaks
acknowledge
the was
or will be
to achieve
deliverance from
no, this is not a bliss!

bear with me..
not in the not-now

reflektimi tregon
trupin
por nuk pasqyron
shpirtin
e brengosur nën
hijet lakmitare
që dhurojnë
mjerimin