Tick...tick...tick...
Time passes so slow
All that I can make out in this room
Is dull red fiery glow.
Drip...drip...drip...
Falls my blood on a sheet.
Covers pulled to but my waist;
Covering my feet.
Faces meet me in the night
Enfold me in a cold embrace;
Whisper within the night so clear...
...If only I could see your face.
Emptiness threatens to create a worthless possession...
Replacing the love I hold...
If you are just like me tonight...
Maybe you're not as cold.
Death is not the passing of life into the next plain of existence...
Death is not knowing that you are about to physically die in the next second, day, or score...
Death is not even the whispers of the Angel of Death, coming to take your rotting corpse to heaven...
But torture is what I know the best...
To be without you is death's moral test.
I feel it pounding beneathe my breast
Against my skin, my murder is pressed.
But now you see how I am tonight...
...But I know not of you...
Mixed feelings of hate for all who keep us chained...
...But love for our love proved true.
Death is not being torn away from you...that is only pain.
Death is the mere thought of blinking and you not being there when I awake...
...The revelation that you might not feel the same as I...anymore.
Farewell this night...
...Sleep well without me.
