A Dying Dream

The crystal gates of a promising change
Distant, unreachable, the relieving faint
So far away…
Have I reached what they call freedom
by ceasing to taste the darkest sea?
But still it keeps on breathing
in the very inside of me
A Dying Dream
Inside it is pulsating, the procreator of demise
Within, there is laughter, a darkest stare of ice
I will not surrender!
I will not let go this «soul»!
I will not surrender!
I will not let go…