It's been hours
It's been days
It's been weeks
It's been months
but still the ashes of a life once desroyed are all that remain.
You're still sifting through thousands of pounds of grey powder
to find something that might have survived
but chances are
you won't.
So while waiting for all that you have left to wither away
close your eyes and ask darkness
for an accidental death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem