I prowl
through the dark corridors
of isolation,
looking for an exit, my death .

For I have now became a Wraith,
testament of that I once was,
cold mirage of living days,
that have now turned to gray.

I linger in this haunted,
unwanted existence,
life is nothing I asked for,
nothing I can refuse.

In this tower of silence,
I cry for help, to quit this life,
yet I'm a ghost, not to be heard,
in the silent and sempiternal isolation.

Make me vanish,
from this isolation,
push me to the eternal pits,
of oblivion.

Where this portrait of pain,
will shatter, in a thousand pieces,
and will release my soul,
to the eternal clutch of death.

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