When my last gasp escapes from cold, stale lungs,

I'll lie- unmoving, stiff, and all alone.

Attempts at breath will leave my mouth agape,

as empty lungs and body now will break.

My mind, it's trapped inside this vessel: Gone.

Friends assume the same of conscience: Wrong.

Livelt white maggots contrast my own decay,

with season's pass and leaves who share my fate.

Relenteless loop of life and death exchange,

alas, my mind, it is from scythe estranged.

Drops will fall, the cycle satisfied.

Tell me the worth of crumbs without my life.