My clock stopped ticking,
And there came he
With a dagger in his right
And a torch in the other.
Of all the doomed
He chose me
Though he was my son,
And I was his mother.
The hell in his eyes
Was all I could see,
For he was the flame
That I could not smother.
Only my blood quenched him,
Covered him in shrouds.
My life was over
Before it has begun.
My shackled soul,
Pierced the clouds,
Searching for light,
But it was outrun.
My clock stopped ticking,
Yet neither has won.
The skies were clear,
But there was no sun.