15 Jul, 2011 07:30 AM
The knife upon which I so strongly hold,
The grave thoughts race as I was told,
Within so deep I wish to penetrate,
Feelings have come as I begin to shake,
The lives I've spent and taken away,
Will all be repaid in this mournful way,
These hands of mine grip oh so tight,
The closing eye see such a beautiful light,
Is it heaven upon which my name does sit?
Or does hell hold my soul in its deep dark pit?
Slowly does it, gasping for air,
Falling together but yet not a pair,
Soul and body no longer as one,
Heaven or hell, here I come.