the heart is perfectly cold –
no room for love,
that rope and that stoel over there are perfect where they are
but where is the lighter and the paraffin
i want to burn while I dangle like a fruit suffocating,
where is the audience –
family and foes
i did not notice the difference –
where are the candles
it is too dark in my soul
and where is the knife to cut off my tongue
i would not want to scream
while I hang like a fruit burning –
u see dying has become a need for me now,
i would not afford any mistakes –
at least not this time –