They say you cannot die from being brokenhearted. I say they lie. I whisper into your coffin the true fact of my self-inflicted destruction. I cry. I show you my state.
Lying here, rotten, full of holes, with parts of me missing but with my heart still intact. I remember the accident.
The train hit me so fucking hard that I couldn’t take my time to blink. My head was separated from my body and my legs were severed. My blood was everywhere. Last thing I remember was the cold metal approaching me.
Soulless…captive into a dark hole full only with devils. Flames everywhere, grotesque screams coming out of nowhere and then the dark light.
I felt like being alive again, until I heard the sad song of my own funeral. Burnt flowers over my coffin, dark roses over my head, the passion of passing into another dimension. Memories, precious moments of my life, parts of my existence, my subconscious and my happiness.
They were gone, gone in an instant.