Vous lisez
the fear of flying
is nothing compared to
the haunting idea
of dying alone
in the last breath
we long for recognition
in the eye of the beholder
we long for that salt
tasted with each
tear of joy
we sweat our heart out
longing for a divine
escape
begging to see the light
at the end of that tunnel
begging to see the light
at the end of a funeral
opening our eyes again
in the soul of the survivors
opening the eyes again
in the soul of our survivors