i lay upon this cold ground of world of death

the feels of depression

I could hold my breath and become one with the winds

I could lose all that I held but yet I chose to hold the rope of hope in my hands

but the walls chose to close as I ranch to the rope I fell as if my dying inside

my body lay cold upon the ice cold ground as the winds plays a part as a knife  

I could feel the numb all over my body

and gods chose not to hear my prays

but the goddesses' are no where to be found in moon of a cold night

and I lay upon this cold ground with dry tears and a world of death