I am dying. As the sun above settles in, And the warmth of what should have been, Plagues my aching, tangled form, Tries to drag me, lifeless, home. I am dying. Like how we share this thing, A lust, a necessity, this ring, Wedding both our divine depravity, Interwoven with mindless insanity. I am dying. Born to raze countries, Or died to watch recoveries, Authenticity is the soul, Of all unmistakable “evil”. I am dying. We only know what we feel, Only stand where we kneel, And on our crippled knees, We cover graves with the breeze. I am dying.