I stare into the distant city,
On the rooftop of my apartment.
The sound bustling traffic.
The horns and sirens altogether
and people seem to light night life
as if it is still morning.

Good for them,
but not for my last light left.
I puff the last of my cigarette
And stare into the night sky.
Let the cold breeze past on my face.
I feel cold.

Yet no pain can be felt on my belly now.
Well, looks like death is in front me.
I take a look at my hand filled with blood,
Trying to hold the gunshot wound
In my stomach.

I huff my last light.
Till it's gone
So is the last hope I have.