a noise quieter than a dying breath

mirrors on the blank side of the paper

a need to control this suicide

something i'll never quite understand

what would heal these holes

marks left by the feeding needle

tonight the bullets turn into keys

and we escape

this was the day of losing control

a sea of silence where i go

stuck somewhere between a blick and a tear

and the great distance

maybe it was just a ghost of a voice

i thought i once heard

maybe nothing of the like

maybe it was a memory

i thought i saw creeping by

maybe nothing

"Better to die, and to sleep

The never waking sleep, than linger on,

And dare to live, when the soul's life is gone."

[Sophocles (496BC-406-5BC)]