The wind whistles through the open window

Only shadows wallow with me in this misery.

One candle burns throughout the night.

It creates the hope that I need to go on.

I clutch the cloth that encases my warmth

It is all so cold, too cold.

The floor seems to mock me with its freezing touch.

I lust for more, but there isn't anything left.

I feel so empty.

My stomach stopped its arguments long ago,

It has realized -as I have- that there is no use.

I do not remember what it was to feel satisfied.

And this thing called "love" is only delusion.

My mind sometimes wanders back to a face,

But that face is no more.

She faded with the hope, with the satisfied feeling…

Just as my consciousness slowly fades now.

I turn over on the frigid floor,

My last memory is the wind as it blew out the tiny flame.