Slender sheets of rain,

From the sky’s vein.

Dried our skins to a stain,

In the hole we have lain.

I feel the shame of the earth,

The guilt of the sky.

I feel the fury of a heart’s hearth,

The rivers of a child’s eye.

When the graying clouds turn away,

To bow down to darkness and frown at day.

I will stand here at the cobblestone path,

Watching the world die before the aftermath.

I will wait for winter words,

From silver feathered birds.

A whistle of the wind,

Souls god did send.

Frayed and tattered,

Fileted and scattered.

Shied away,

Sighed today.

The sight of a thousand lights,

Makes way for a million nights.

Day and dark will never cease,

Till when Mother Nature is appeased.

Curdle my soul,

Tear my whole.

Torture my bones,

Cover my moans.

I ache, I cry,

I starve, I die.

I close my eyes,

And wonder why.

Why bless me with my life,

To curse me with strife.

Mortality? Such a faltering game,

An ending that is always the same.

You die.

It’s as simple as that.

No lie.

Watch out for a black cat.

There’s a fork in the road,

But no food to be found.

My eyes I have showed,

The stars to which I’m bound.

Planets hover like a thought,

A string holding them up so taut.

They cry from their shadowy heaven,

Giving away tears that were not given.

The wind howls my name,

The sea churns my mind.

I do not feel the same,

As when the light last shined.

Created in the torrents of the sea,

Beneath the dark, dark tree.

I laid with comatose tonight,

Visions of present beyond my sight.

As my body withers to erosion,

I watch the tree fall away to rot.

This future is the one corrosion,

That I had never sought.

But what I accomplished and wanted,

Are two completely different things.

By hopes and fears I am daunted,

But with another breath it stings.

Every ache,

That my body makes.

Is another piece of evidence,

In the maze of Daedalus.

Consumed by every turn,

Walls so thick and stern.

I assert my cowardice,

I embrace my avarice.

Hasten to the forest they say,

Run, run…run away.

Believe in the road ahead,

Or blood you may shed.

One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, four,

Who is that knocking at the door.

A man with a cane,

With a glint so feign.

Look at that metal cane of His,

What a sharp touch that is.

When dreams come to steal me away,

Here comes the Man who owns the roads they say.

Obey the call of the clarion sleep,

For it is the place where I won’t weep.

But now here comes a gradient steed,

From hatred’s lust to darkest seed.

The Man rides upon his back,

The ending of the play’s act.

A place waits for me at the end of the road,

A place rank and rot with my newfound abode.

I reluctantly go,

To where, I do not know.

But He my foe,

Knows where I go.

In death’s sweet kiss,

I won’t remember this.

But He will,

As I grow still.