No more flowers. Their bloom bears too much color. No red, no peach, no trace of blue against white. I cannot bear more than grey. No more sky. There is not much it holds for me any more. Every dream that was sent had spent their moments there. Little wishes, smiles upon moments. Had I found a shirt she’d like or a song I wanted to share. In the wind now, blown far from my sight. No more roads for me. They all are bleached with the color of ghosts. They call at every hour, and sing that chorus of ruination. Hope, laugh, dare. My world no longer has these days. Just hours. Dim, as dungeons are, the dark, and night to bear no dreams at all.
– Mitsuo Tanaka