Coming Home

These roses which I hold in my hands

are dry and without spines.

What once was an aching red

sprinkles on my bitter wounds

and everything loses its color.

A slight wind steals the last tired petal,

and with it, my destiny.

I let myself lulled by this cold winter,

hypothermia, I'm safe now.

My infant dreams are lost in the snow,

which now makes it more pure,

purifing things now.

and my mind breaks down,

and everything becomes redder.

My footsteps, a trail of blood

while the loop is in its place.

And maybe I'm coming home.

With a white coat which is now my dress.

With a white coat that will be my last dress.

With a white coat that is my only fate.

Hypothermia, I'm safe now.

and I feel nothing, no more pain.

Hypothermia, and the delicate winter song

echoes in my head.

And death is only closer now.

It embraces me, sweet snowflake warmer than my skin.

And I'm about to drift into a white world.

And my thoughts are white,

and now I see everything white.