There's an explosion about to happen from the inside out whilst
the pressure from the outside is intensely compressing
my very soul - the spirit that is me is dying.

My hope is withering like a flower in the desert. As the heat
dehydrates the flower so the tears wither my soul.

The sun is gone. The cold and loneliness of the dark surround the
decrepit flower to assure that every breath of life is snatched
from what used to be a beautiful creation.

The flower succumbs and is no more.