Finally we are no one

The air is getting warm,

the breaths, heavy.

Is this the end

or the beginning

of my melancholy?

The words have begun to fade,

I hear footsteps over my head.

Is this the soil where I was born?

Or is it where I am going next?

Oh! It’s the tears watering the rose.

It’s quite close,

to what I think is death.

Life is the most beautiful,

at the end,

I suppose.

Because, that’s when we are

everything or nothing.

Silence never felt so awesome.

The abyss never felt so complete,

What are we without a little emptiness?

What are we, without pain?

We maybe mortal and soulful, but

finally we are no one.