in the graves

Locked within four walls, the darkness envelops my face, blinding me like a fading rainbow. Life rushes past me, leaving me devoid of any taste of happiness. A voice now calls to me, promising a meeting at the grave.

The rain covers me, and the sun’s warmth fails to reach me. Memories refuse to leave me alone, fueling my desire to see you again.

This desolate existence torments me, and the breath I take feels like an escape. But don’t worry, for we will meet, we will meet, we will meet at the grave.

In the grave, there you will find me. You may find the light dim, or perhaps the grave is empty.

Often, your new portrait appears before me, painted in white, yet filled with darkness.

Nothing brings me comfort in this world, which feels like a dream or a hell. Only death holds true, and we will be true in our meeting at the grave.

In the grave, there you will meet me. You may find the light dim, or perhaps the grave is empty.