Push your picture pale and painted,
as the day to come is tainted.
When I hear the news of dying-
desperate for a clue.

Then I see the claws you're bearing
dull or sharp the point in fearing
when I look for answers prying
rest with only you.

I grasp for time that's always faster
after every day disaster.
Still I focus on my trying
though my hopes are few.

Then I see the void is staring
deep in me as dark is nearing
Still your peace is held in lying-
when the end is true.