Seep Bone Coldly

No warrior’s death is coming for me no blood-stained sword will release my foolish life from its hollow chest so slow I die on this field of shame. Stench of copper vile taste of metal adrift I’m alone and battered and torn oh that I could recompense my love! No quiet wake of honor shall be held no slow loving march of the damned solemn to hasten me to eternal sleep no I shall ever wail silently as I decay. Terrible mists of doom rise eerily and creep hauntingly before my fading eyes cast upon the distant shore of love lost. No angels of mercy will soar this field thick with the rancor of my bitter defeat they will not remove this elegiac song shrouded by sick stench of stoic hope. Oh that I could in great haste be felled not seep bone coldly into Hades cruel might his dread hot abyss of suffering. No arrow swift flying will find its mark no sword nor spear will ever pierce me. Aye, this poison by which I’ll not die looses the design of even black vultures. I will wither and linger alone as it reigns cold perfect terror over me and claws at where slow my life leaking seeps to hell.