You know I left you in order to suffer less,
backed off from myself in order to stop suffering,
trying to find some lost pieces of happiness.
And I am no longer who I used to be.
My old self is death or lost in a haunted wood.
I guess you are the killer, maybe not...
I don't know if you killed him by a shot
or kept him without water, without food.
Crows are eating all my death soul,
worms are consuming all my last hopes,
vanishing all my memories.
Put a cross right here,
next to this funereal hole
and seal it well so no one can hear
if I scream.