What if my fairy tales
die, after you have gone
down to the other side -
where you are never wrong,
where, on the contrary,
I will be never right,
where I won't have the strength
just to stand up and fight?

What if my fairy tales
have never really lived,
scared to the back by truth,
being, by truth, deceived,
only existing there,
struggling for every breath...

How, if you've never lived, can you accept your death?