Once, I wish to feel dead, to be cold and brutal

Once, I wish to feel dead, to be cold and brutal, To walk away and never touch words again, To erase every trace of my existence. The more I yearn for love, heart, and soul, The deeper the fear of living with its curses, So once, I wish to feel dead, to be cold and brutal, To erase the lines of the present from my palms and mind, To extinguish every flicker of warmth I crave for myself. To end the cycle of life and death, that insidious solace. The more I yearn to cradle the child within me, The more the stains turn grey and old. And thus, for my entire life, I crawl to feel dead, to be cold and brutal, To pass through the cobwebs, to manage the pain as if it never existed, To hide every essence of myself. In the depth of night, where dreams intertwine with reality, I traverse a labyrinth of thoughts, an unbroken stream of consciousness, Where each step takes me further from the light of day, Into a world of shadows and frozen memories. There, in the cold silence of my mind, I seek answers In the silent echoes of my heart, In a melancholic dance of unfulfilled desires, Where the lines of the present fade And the past becomes a dream lost in the mist of time. I lose myself in this river of thoughts, Seeking essence in every fragment of darkness, Knowing that true liberation lies in the power to let go, In the silent magic of existence, In the cold beauty of endless nights, And in the melancholy of a soul lost in its own labyrinth. Once, I wish to feel dead, to be cold and brutal, To end the cycle of life and death, To erase every trace of my existence, And to finally find peace in the silence of eternity.