Sublime Death

i feel nothing but death is sublime solution to this pitiless lost soul. the time has come for an answer to these questions of like and death. Surrounded by beautiful death of winter, what life is left? its waiting til spring to be reborn. can i be reborn? could i have a better life? no more pain, no more manic and depression unraveling me slowly, driving, driving me crazy, i wish for nothing but a wooden box in which i would fit and a gravedigger to dig the pit. no family needed maybe just the crows.