the world is black,
nothing with color,
everything plastered,
it wishes to die.
It wants to be,
but it is impossible,
the constant pull
into the shadows,
Waiting for the gallows,
that final look at the sun,
to forget that glare,
the torment ends.
It is only natural to be what one is. To return to nothing. To end the entrophy and chaos. To be whole by not being.