slowly decaying from the inside out..
sleep shall come to me that I have no doubt about, the ticking of the clock as it drowns out the noise of my slowing beating heart. It entwines it's self to a memory of what was my life a distant spell upon the horizon where the shallow graves of misspent souls linger in the shadows of the moon light sky, where the magpie birds captures it's prize, where the lost souls go to wither and die
death is but a mere expectancy of what is to come beyond these words a deed shall be done, A no man's land of ill fated lust where the ticking of the clock is more a torture than the lost stolen words that was once i, A story tellers tale
I had an beginning but not such a glorious end to those who betrayed thee and lingered as i fell, my mind has overcome such trouble but for you, you shall lay in the ashes of that magpie bird's nest no prize for you but except your pitiful cries that ring on in your mind and the i told you so's pinned upon your flesh
take heed these are thy words from a soul an empty mind no bitterness
your judgement day shall come, and i shall sit amongst the shadows with a slight smile upon my face i knowing that it's your turn to sit and take that test!