The plane I'm on is going slow,
I look and stare down below...
Mommy where are you?
please come home...
I'm standing in the darkness,clutching a knife in...
asking my self why, no one could ever understand...
fooled into thinking
I could frame them forever...
In the twilight of existence, when shadows start...
Upon the canvas of life, Death gently comes to...
Why is someone else's death repulsive
But my own appealing...
Upon the hills of rocks and stone
beyond moor of meadow dawn...
As I walk alone in the pouring rain
Thoughts go through my brain again...
Death is the calling of a childhood friend
or a neighbors father, chilling sound...
Drawing his nails
along the cell ground, striving...
Ifeoma's child is dead and her crying gong speaks...
She has welcomed few treasures into her basket yet...
She laid there cold and alone
with her suicide note gripped tight...