As I lay there shivering and cold.
The ground like ice and the dirt so old.
Blood gushing from my side like a ruby red flood.
Staining and mixing with the dark and thick mud.
I must live I think to myself as try to move.
My bones then crunching and cracking right out of there grove.
Hundreds and thousands of needles fire right up my spine.
All this pain and agony why is it mine?
Hours I lay there tasting my blood.
Silvery and warm I'd spit if I could.
Now a smell lingers around and about.
The stench just as vivid as the sound when I shout.
Finally I feel it, my time has grown near.
It seems as though I will die just lieing right here.
Why did I always have to live life on the edge.
If I could have controlled myself Maybe I wouldn't have not fallen right off that ledge.
I hope that This gives alot of mental images. Its what I was aiming for let me know what you think please
