• The blade is poised above my wrist
    The edge keen for my blood to spill
    Signed the letter to my mother
    Made peace with my conscience

    No time to contemplate
    My mind is set
    The deed is swift
    Carpet stained red

    Mourners wait to pay their last respects
    The stone is carved
    Prayers are heaven sent
    The grave awaits the final march

    Tears run dry as flesh becomes dust
    Corrupted by the mundane
    No thoughts of lost innoscence
    Live goes on regaredless