In search of life, I have begun my ascent to the mountain
That has been known to have no one returned;
Now the darkness descends upon me
And my flashlight has been turned off, gone-
So then I will use my smiling pictures and ignite them with a lighter;
With that light I will walk up the mountain.
When the pictures have been extinguished,
I will burn my belongings, except a journal and a pen, and walk up;
With only the journal and a pen,
The only thing I am left to burn is my memories.
I hesitate,
But what good left is there in my small book of memories?
I will burn them,
And I will lay myself on the cold floor, barely breathing.