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.