The Blackness of the heart seems darker
The silver chain wrapped around the neck
Squeezing and slowly draining the pain bitter
Losing breath seems better than feeling wreck
It starts from the feet
Then to the finger tips
The coldness stretches until it meets
The pale and melancholic lips
The lips that left opened
The tongue that ran dry
The skin seems to lost its touch; once cotton
The eyes left hoping for one last try
And the soul...
Maybe it never truly lived.

-fir.m