I writhe in pulsating sickness,
excruciating agony,
as time slips through my pale fingers,
I sigh,
Greed has found solace in Romance,
but falls short of its prize,
as you wither away in the distance,
the poison coursing through my subtle veins,
The blasphemy
How I loathe it
However,
I do not long for sympathy
I am no fool
Do not linger
I am as insignificant,
as the fly,
the corpse,
the human eye,
no matter how splendid,
or worthless,
I slowly part alone,
as every mere mortal,
is destined to fate,
and I struggle to catch my reflection,
some familiar face,
but shudder in horror,
for I no longer recognize,
what stares upon the glass,
but see my true form,
that hideous,
wretched beast,
seething at the sight,
the pain too much to bear,
once again I bleed,
like perforated margins,
yet to tear completely,
I struggle to arise,
and fall with a thud,
thinking of you,
struggling to survive,
tossing and turning,
upon the chamber floor,
on which I lay,
and strike an internal debate,
on rather to greet Death,
with dignity,
and new-found adventure,
or to consign for aid,
in my poor condition,
an icy grip entices,
like a piper,
to the curious child,
I wander,
and quickly rule out the second,
greeting Death,
with open arms,
I bid thee Farewell to a dream,
I have been granted my wings,
torn,
but stable,
who shall say,
that Death,
isn't as much a wanderer,
as I?