In solitude

There was a door, slightly ajar,

I looked inside, yet I was outside.

I suppose it had always been this way.

My dreams slept elsewhere,

Somehow they always found me,

I could never find them—they vanished suddenly.

My tired hands fell silent,

My footsteps lost in empty streets,

Dreams just a breath away,

Loneliness tearing through the night.

...

Nets woven with rust,

Bind our lips with blood.

Days rain down in silence,

This night too, my soul sheds lightless tears.

My step forgotten somewhere,

This foolish, heavy curtain has shut my eyes.

I was left behind in solitude,

I died—so what? What difference does it make?

My tired hands fell silent,

My footsteps lost in empty streets,

Dreams just a breath away,

Loneliness tearing through the night.