Your thorns grasp deeper...
Permeate my head.
Where my body lies.
There is no bed.
You've crowned me king.
My ace of spades.
Your the devils due..
When the bills are paid.
Your sharpened talons,
Painted bloodlet red.
Your scathing breath...
Bores through my head.
If this is life...
I'd be better off dead.
Of a twisted hook...
Buried in my loins.
Making me wish,
I was never borne.
Your knarled teeth...
Via my jugular vein.
I close my eyes
Yet in vast distain.
I concede the fact,
Soon I'll feel no pain.
You sap me dry.
In soul and keep.
My mind in awry.
In mental deplete.
I lie in prone.
In disheveled defeat.
By time you read this.
My ink is dry.
Life as I knew it.
Has passed on by.
Sometimes I wish,
I was made of stone...
Just scatter my ash,
Of char and bone.
In the end ...
Be no wind nor tide.
A piece of paper,
Of final confide.
A silenced storm.
As I pass on by.
Of grasses of brown...
And mountains of clay.
Of silenced shoes.
Haggered and tired,
In a pile they lay.
No wooden box.
No lucky charm.
When your gone...
You can do no harm.
I am now dead.
No more visions to see.
Just take your time,
When you follow me
