With the grinding of pain viscous veins are filled. My body worn out. In a chase for the past my hands I excised. On jagged cliffs, on the names left behind. Struggled to find all that I could't take. But the knifes of the sun, have blinded my eyes. Dead I fell on the ground. From charred cliffs tumbled down.
Lying, fading away. Enslaved I look up at the skies. Of the smothering mourning. For that, whith could not hold on to. For the faces in reminiscence. And the time I couldn't grasp, with my hands.