As the night feeds into my soul,
My beloved shall scream out her faith,
For my truth will always be a lie,
And the nights shall forever wait.

The days halt into their lights,
For no one can feel the sheen on my face,
The worlds around fold into silence,
When the pregnant universe treads on its own trace.

A hundred and eight times the beads rotate,
As the wind steals my pulse with a breath,
The candle still burns out my face,
As the solemn skies proclaim my death.

Deafening wails climb on my skin,
And unshed tears break on my lashes,
Souls cling onto my deceit,
As the pettiness with their wills clashes.

I embrace the ends, not the means,
When the journey keeps refusing to stay,
And invite my Reaper on my bed,
As life lusts its essence away.