To Yurena (12-2-2000)

Bitter, but without the sweet.
I don't know what I feel.
I don't know what to feel.
I don't know how to feel.

I stand on a tall white pillar.
In the middle of a plain.
Through the fog, I can see
people far below.
Some look happy.
They smile, they talk,
they laugh, they love.
I watch - I only watch.

It's not finished - not yet.
When will my self-destruction
be complete?
Will they care? notice?

lonely.

Love - what use is it?
Why do I long so much
to give, to recieve?
Will it stop the hunger -
I slowly starve to death.
Will it heal the wounds -
my heart bleeds to death,
beating feebly, weakening.
I don't want to die today.
Not yet - not this soon -

lonely.