Dear ghost,
I do not like the way your word vibrate in me. The way it echoes in my head. But they ring with truth.
Sleep deprived. Disabled emotions. Fleeting mind. I and my body have deserted me. My will is screaming to drop measly task and run away.
It seems like I matter not to me.
But I can still save that golden dust. If I do have the power to kill all that survives in me, I can kill the one that destroys me.
The I who plague my withering worth, I sentence you to death. I shall reverse your execution. Begone to the underworld that you lure me into.
Mine