Her Final WordsA Poem by Treason and Metal
Uncertainty beclouds my soul
Words are my only solace I wish for a certainty on a whole Of being victor of Falken by sadness' mace Despair seeks an handshake What to do, I know not His cold hands should I take? Lost these battles of sanity I've always fought A restless mind always evokes fears An acquiescence to my numerous weaknesses Escaping to my utmost rears As I bow to depression's superior forces A solution I have this found For of what use is this life And if now by my tongue, I am bound Yea, I shall be an acquaintance of the knife © 2016 Treason and Metal |
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Added on September 11, 2016 Last Updated on September 11, 2016 Tags: Death, Depression, Nonsense Author
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