Making choices in life sometimesmeant leaving a part of myself behind.Now, at the end…
Paired with ire of black,My hands wander the world within,A gray plane of my holed-through soul — Breathing…
Should I stay alive or should I die?Should I wait for life to be better?Should I go to heaven forever?Should I become an angel and fly?
— —
Don’t push medon’t prod medon’t make decisions for me