The Coming of the End

Please do tell of the morning light,

That stole your eye sight today,

Explain to me the plight,

That you hope for the heavens to answer someday--

But speak to me softly of your pain--

For I can not stand to see

Your undoings that have caused your heart to be slain,

Let the past, forever be.


The flowers on the meadow that you found,

What color were they?

Were they like the rainbow, enough to astound,

On top of this bed did you lay?

Did these colors surround your dying hair,

Did they brighten up your stare

As you lay semi-awake in a land that stole your air?

Or did the oncoming white surround you with a glare?


Do you succumb to the open faux happiness

That you are introduced to?

Or do you fight the coming days of nothingness

With everything that ever made you?

How you can see in a world so bright,

That is slowly burning away your sight,

This light shows that you must fight,

Please, to this land, you mustn't hold tight,

To the next world you must take flight,

I will remember your memory with all my might.




The End

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