Mercy is the pyre onto you wish to burn me,
But douse me in those ashes so I can be free.
So then I can wash away this anguish,
And give in to my last wish.
My shadow is made of soot,
Into which I hide my loss.
And yet I am yet to be cross,
As I quash those feelings under boot.
“You’d never have guessed”
For I have reached the roof,
Seeing the stars burn is proof.
But there is nothing else here...