4.48

The weight of symbolic actions stabs my lungs crushing my heart
I watch the ceiling as if watching my feelings

I know I should not speak but my desire covers the voice of my thought
I am motivated by the rhythm of insanity
I try to watch around me with the rope tied around my hands
The noise of the clock awakes me

Four hours and forty eight minutes of a day I shall never see
The rope that before trembled with my hands now chokes me in my final
redemption
The last thoughts rush into my head

And before closing my eyes for the last time I realize: "No one came
in time. Maybe there was no one."