These bleeding eyes are holding me here, trying to keep me tame.
I seek no longer that of riches, or the whorish delights of fame.

Wandering, slaughtered, and undead being of rags.
A broken soul, half mended, behind me it scrapes and drags.

Leaving behind a world far gone, a plane of eternal skies.
Gazing upon the future, behold, I see with bleeding eyes.
Reality fading, a holocaust beheld, a life has lost it's thread.
I know that I am no longer living, undeserving to even be dead.

My bleeding eyes reveal to me, the thoughts and struggles of a being.
To think I once did so strive, and struggle to find my life's string.
A sword rusting, unfound, in a closet locked away.
Not allowed to gleam and flash, and shed blood in the day.

A falling axe, a wicked shine, shall show the executioner's glee.
Should I move or allow the blade to cleave my head from me?
Grinning, I turn away, not caring that the candle still burns.
And awake, as a child, in a bed, rumpled with tosses and turns.



Penned by my hand on the 1st of Ios, in the year 123 MA.