Gaunt cheeks, solemn eyes.
Wizened, gray wisps hang from head,
perhaps I am already dead.
My face, like death in the night,
frightens all with sight.
Why does this corpse contain motion?
It has no purpose, not a single notion.
Terror breathing, emotion seething.
Tell me what to do
when age creeps through.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
Gaunt cheeks, solemn eyes.
Wizened, gray wisps hang from head,
perhaps I am already dead.
My face, like death in the night,
frightens all with sight.
Why does this corpse contain motion?
It has no purpose, not a single notion.
Terror breathing, emotion seething.
Tell me what to do
when age creeps through.
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