The triumph of death

I do not remember of when everything
become black and white to my eyes
Living of the nostalgia of interminable equal days
Of the fine rain beating in dry branches
And of grey days of autumn

A cold sepulture waits me
With its frozen black marbles

My mind is tortured by the sadness
The horror installs in my mind without I perceive

I have fear of the life and also of the death
But I know that I will see one day

So painful as my empty existence
Without reason or explanation
I believed for much time in deceased hopes

The reality is here now
And dreams are declining.

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