It’s hard to make a wrong decision

I was chosen! nor does the number and date matter
the words run wild
and they throw themselves into my arms, they fall at my feet
I am the bearer of the living
I the one who carried him in my arms
and together we learned what floating is

I will take out my heart
and I will put it on the altar of suffering
I will forgot who ""I"" was through death
and I will be born in the new ""we""
forgetting the past of vain words
and learning the word new mantra

on the moment when ""I"" died
everyone treated me differently
as if they loved me
but, the knife shines at the top of the word
and love stabs me right in the heart
after which she also throws herself into death