There are beginnings to every story,
yet I try to find the end to mine.
Soon, images blurred with impurities shall cleanse.
What lies beneath shall come to light.
When? When will the day come?
I breathe in its stank breath already.
The day to night attire I’ve ornamented myself in now
dangles in charred tatters nearly burned away.
Will there be enough gathered round’ to witness?
May acidic touches of reality be inquisitive…
thawing me from this state of hell I’ve wandered…
This cast of pain cannot persevere!
The ice shrouding me with life will melt, crack and brake away.