I stand in an open field, the calmness in the atmosphere, air within its melancholic expression. I egarly wait and look at the sky, tumbling and breaking into fire, shattering with every second into pieces of volcanic eruption, the orange, yellowish red lava-ish like. I am waiting for them to reach to me. And then I think of my life, how badly I wanted it to end. I wanted the suffering to end. The life I have lived, inconsequential but grand, ordinary but beautiful, sad but ... it's just sad. As I wait for volcanic eruption of sky on me, and then everything froze other than me, stopped for a moment, and now i wonder, how badly I want to live and yet I despise it. Well I don't, I just feel I should disappear. But now, I want tp live at it's very last moment. Atleast, to remember that I wanted to always live. To be happy. Since I was carried by my mother, I was shattered into pieces, and I didn't know. I was murdered into many broken particles. Life made me this. My life. The only life that I have, yet it made me sad, shattered and made me everything. I see myself whole, trying to keep those shattered pieces of mine together, to save myself. And yet, I wish these shattered pieces of mine, erupt like sky into million firelight lava.