The smell of bitter black coffee lingers in the air,
Much like a rotting cadaver, a stench that holds so much pain,
Pain so deep, it cannot be unravelled as the fear of breaking is far worse.
In death, I shall be free.
The circles of reality that surround me here cry out in rejoice,
Nameless faces validating my only existence.
A devoid expression from those who proclaim they care.
One day I will be okay
A desensitised soul wondering the killing fields,
Only he who dares speaks knows the truth,
A fragmented mind never allowed to be complete.
This is the final command.
The book stops here.
And I am now gone.