I am the one,
The one who walks through death.
To every side, death surrounds me,
Comforts me? No, it’s all I see. I am sick.
Death cannot come, for one living in death.
Everything around me, so alien, yet so familiar. Yet always empty.
Thank you, for taking all feeling.
It can’t be good anymore.
But also it can’t hurt.
Because existing does that to the maximum.