Embodying one’s despair,
I don’t know what it is like you.
I never could have lived the way you did,
The sight of the slipping hill, cliff overflowing,
The fleeing sea, sharp waves bouncing raw.
You are the reason why,
The knife cuts flesh off
The rope narrows neck
The bullet hisses brain
A glance at history shows you wish not to be born,
A status to be remembered