On the verge of death when all the years I spent alive became shortened like the days of the grass on a field, which blossomed for a moment and later fades away returning to dust.
If only a chance of life could be offered, even at her utmost end.
I fell with my eyes facing the sky. I wished the heavens could hear my cry and come to my rescue, but to me it was too late now as my back landed on a sharp pointed wood which was in the river as it pierced through my chest.
My blood gushed out running through the sharp wood that went through my heart, then entered the water as the river was mixed with my blood.
The more I ran short of blood, the more my strength left me, now my days can finally be numbered.
I kept my eyes at the sky as it gradually became blurry.
At that point only two peop
