Each water drops
Marks the passing
Of a mind strengthened
By the knowledge
Of Death

If we were not born
To die
Life would
Not be life

The air would
Not taste as sweet

The water
As cool

The changing of seasons
As glorious

Who put me here?
Who controls these
Thoughts within
My brain?

Who am I in the world?
Who am I to the streets
With her battered ***** covered
Cobble stones? Shattered bottles
Lining the seams of her brazier...

Now that sight
Has shackled me
With their vices

And my body grows
Weaker as time passes

I show signs of an age
I feel has passed me by

The stinking dead were
Once frightfully alive

I see their faces
In their gravestones

A reflection that one day
Will be

All to

Familiar