The dappled, grey sky fractures,
bringing a petrichor-scented breeze through my window,
mimicking the torment brewing inside.
I lay here, flesh frozen and cracked,
staring unseeing at the empty space I'll leave behind.
The spartan walls crowd in,
circling to compact my overworked senses
from bleeding out of my chest.

The loss parts way to darkness,
accented in sharp, stinging barbs
striking at my once treasured memories.
Holding my breath to stave off the pain,
I drift sluggishly, my arms heavy as lead.

Wrenching air into my starving lungs,
I'm held anchor in this cold prison.
The dreary world passes by
with ascribed demise marked ahead.
My eyes fall closed in cessation,
a submission from lent aid.
A bandage awaits beyond the graveyard.