A Symbol of the Passing Soul

I am troubled by your

lost night,

stripped naked of remnants

of stars. I am teased by happiness

for which I paid

with black and white tears.

 

Rise from the dead, show me

the way between remorse,

teach me to die slowly,

without unnecessary promises.

 

I am insatiable with life,

I choose the depths of the past

that were a gateway to hell

a few years ago.

 

It's time to dress up as a jester

and learn to clap nicely.

On the pedestal of the night,

a white flower blooms,

a symbol of that passing soul.

 

Don't let my smile

fade away forever.