"What more is there?" he asked.

There were no answers that he could seek;

not when his young Liza was found cold

beneath the summer sky.

Not when he started to lag behind in his studies,

not when his friends reduced him to nothing but a buzz

-killer.

Not when the flash of death began to infiltrate his mind,

not when blank stares started filling his daily void.

Not when his mother wrote him,

without cause

-a lost one.

Not when he looped the twine around the branch.

No one could explain what living was worth to a child whose light was lost the day every mirror cracked in luster.

After all, what more does he have to be afraid of?