All visuals fade and dissipate,
Conscious of only voices inside...

My river flows wide and deep,
full of pain, tears, and sorrow...

Through the narrow black hole to my soul,
there lies the truth behind these eyes...

She lay still on the concrete,
listening to whispers of the wind...

To stressed to see,
the wonder before me...

Several tears
tears secretly cried...

This passion,
mindless, careless, and free...

Lost within the solidity of the darkness
Isolated in a serene quarantine...

What can be said,
that hasn't been said already...

Fragments of thought dwindle,
cut into meaningless pieces...

These feelings I carry are mine,
but they do not belong to me...

Six hundred, fifty-eight kilometers,
or four hundred and eight miles...