Death and I - Inevitably Kismet for Quietus
I received a letter from death,
Upon the hour.
"May the world pity you,
For your days are numbered."
Shallow are my waters I swim in,
I cannot pass on now.
My time is yet to come,
Please, I have so much more to live for.
Can I not salvage these years,
For they are what all I have left.
I am no more than a melancholic man,
Left for dead on a barren avenue.
Death locked me within this cage,
Of prosecution,
Of damnation —
And of plague writhing my bones!
May the world pity me as I cry out for help.
My heart will weep all the night long.
There seems to be no sympathetic heart
That will notice my forlorn sadness.
Does the world no longer hone them,
The empaths who made it bearable to
Live in a heartless world,
Such as this?
Death knocked at my door and entered,
Where I laid prepared.
Upon arrival, she kissed me on my lips.
Cold were they, yearning for her.
May the toll of purgatory be brief,
For I cannot endure this;
Ceremony of judgement and punishment.
Wherever my soul be guided to,
I ask death to walk alongside my new body.
Guide me wherever her throne resides,
But before I take my crown and ring as husband,
I kiss the cold lips of death once more.
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