A blast goes off,
                     the ticking bomb in my head.
                       Yet it doesn't stop,
                     So I can't be dead.

               The red splashes forth,
A world of Crimson forms from the                     shrapnel.
A world that already ran its course,
Devil's wings surrounds its chapels.

A winged Angel with a sythe,
                      Hovers over ever vigil.
To save these people from their strife,
        Yet held at bay by a metal sigil.

The people look up at their hero,
                  pain forming in his red eyes.
They need rescue from their pharoe,
        Upon his throne constructed by lies.

Death points at the Pharoe's black heart,
        Tell the people to take up arms.
the king and his men were torn apart,
their blood of dark pitch baptised their  charms.

Death broke free from the prison in the    
sky,
descending upon them with an eagles cry.
One Swype he ended all of their lives,
They never even had time to ask why.

My head pieces itself back together,
blood pours back into my body's Nile.
Secrets remain the same forever,
as on my face a gentle smile.

                      Carpe.... Diem....