Dying Bag of Bones
On the edge of darkness, the knife still dwells, within the shadows of my hellish torment, there you will find my remains, cradled in the dying earth, where time shall becoming the beating of my lost and shattered heart.
Tick tock, goes my heart, the hours grow ever long, a dreary day unlike the pain, that I once had to endure, through the aching of the dying soul trapped within my frame.
Eyes of the old, always saw through the fog, a fog off sheer terror where the blood once flowed like an electrical impulse, stimulating the hunk of flesh that was once my mind.
Now my body lays still beneath the earth that once gave me existence, veiled by the fog of the long since forgotten days,
waiting...waiting for a soul to inhabit this old bag of bones.
Copyright © Robert Needles | Year Posted 2017