I fear in this lifetime,
It may not be with you.
Flowers on a table,
Turning to a gun soon.
Wind chimes come at my door,
I believing its you.
The habit to answer,
No one is there & through.
The crimson sky to shine,
Telling me its my time.
The last & final thoughts,
All telling me a sign.
Will I ever get out,
This end of my lifeline?
Nov 29, 2020
Nov 29, 2020 at 1:25 PM UTC
I fear in this lifetime,
It may not be with you.
Flowers on a table,
Turning to a gun soon.
Wind chimes come at my door,
I believing its you.
The habit to answer,
No one is there & through.
The crimson sky to shine,
Telling me its my time.
The last & final thoughts,
All telling me a sign.
Will I ever get out,
This end of my lifeline?
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