Prologue

To your grave I spoke, holding a red rose. Gust of freezing cold air whispers to me, that you are gone. Always reaching for a shame of what once used to be. Never expected that I would regret the time that passed these precious memories. Spend a lifetime of holding on, just to let go. Searching for something inside these gust of freezing air, I spoke to your grave, holding a red rose. Looking out I am in this loss, for a new hope.