The memories that I had ever,
now belong to someone else.
In the summer I'm cold. In the winter-tender:
an empty mask, instead of face.
There's no way to break my bones,
when I broke them hundred times.
My life is cage, made of thorns.
I didn't lived, so I can't die.
The feelings that I'd ever known,
are nothing but a meanless mess,
caused by fear and a weakness...
Without them I am free to rest. ...