A man is sitting next to the bed writing with his left hand:
Have you ever wondered if your life is worth it or do you have the opportunity to end it, to beat the darkness, or on the contrary let yourself sink into the shadows and then giving a stab by the back?
Have you ever wondered why things don't make happen, because, even if you work with your heart, nothing works and the frozen water of loneliness continues to fall?
A dark angel, cold like the poles that are compressed, making half the earth bleed, staining with blood, satiating the desire for suffering and misery.
A dark angel is the one who has taken me in his hands.
Can you escape from it?
Doesn't it give you some other way out?
Or do you have to join the eternal darkness?