I'll just stop now
at the edge of you
foolishly trusting
the wind to push me
to my death.
ghost of my lovers past
prolonged shadow of future sins
calling, beckoning, like endless
echoes in a cold and misty wood.
am I a formless voice too?
am I a stranger to my own
pathetic attempt!?
is my point of view
an eternal trap..?
Forget about me!
