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Plea From the Regretful
When dark and dreary come, I beg come with.
I toss and turn within this chain stronghold.
The chains are stong as I was the locksmith.
Many forge cage within these search for gold.
Those who reach for the sky grasp at the sun,
these wallow in eternal worshipping.
Those who strange the world have debts soon strung,
this poisoned drink was not made for sipping.
I cry now black tears of pain I hath caused,
oh save the audacity of my crime.
While the world still rounds, my bruise has been baused,
my body is fire until pulmozyme.
I beg release of me, darkness take hold.
Allow me one last breath pre-taking cold.
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