A step away from my spine
sky turns from black to blue,
Just a while from myself
a mind plays in perfect tune.
Slide on one of nine sides:
The mourn will have a name.
Call it passing pain and
my crisis won't be late.
And yet whose voices are these?
Emptiness is my choice.
Coming through those faces
who's going to make next noise?
Mood, gestures, needs, will, talk,
please tell me what can I control?
Here's me, defying my fall
Just like I was never born.