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Waiting to Die

 

Waiting to Die.

The grave

Alone on an empty path,

Waiting to die;

Far horizons shrouded in fog,

Hoping for God

Or the devil to hear my cry.

No moonlight to show me the way,

Stumble and slide;

From the world I’ve grown to despise,

Evening’s demise

Will bury me under the sky.

A spectre stirs in the shadow,

Death, be my friend;

In mournful reality’s presence,

Sicknesses essence,

Into the crypt I’ll descend.

Puppets will dance on my grave,

Write me an ode;

My sepulchre they will attend,

Epitaphs penned,

At my cenotaph read them aloud.

Cold as the tomb of tomorrow,

Darkness await;

No one will mourn for me,

Here is my destiny,

Solitude draws me to fate.