I know ancient stories about not having hope;
Derived through dark mysteries of longing hearts,
Deepening inside a void that never fills;
You know, I’m losing sanity to stay calm.
I often rush my mind, over which night changed my soul,
I longed for such atrocities that a human feels ashamed, a painful truth;
Still, I long for someone, with whom I could cry and laugh,
You know, I’m losing control to stay sane.
Deathra, I named you after a merci-less goddess;
I’ve hatred, love, and fear for your acts of absence,
I couldn’t help more, but write and crave, but seek and rejoice.
One ancient story speaks about a man,
Empty, cruel, soulless defines him;
Nothing he has, but pain and suffering
To offer his beloved to live a life.
I rest my eyes now, Deathra,
It’s a gift I can write, alas, it’s a curse I live.
Stories And Life