A poem of sorrow, an end to a life.
|I lay upon the rich black soil
And await my death, my finish,
The end of this life I now abhore.
Let the crows consume my heart
While the starlings peck out my eyes.
Yes, black birds of death, with beaks
That pierce my flesh. Yes, I call you.
Come to me. Deliver me to the darkest depths,
To the place where I long to dwell,
Where life's dismal pages no more
Will haunt my pallid existence.
Consume my flesh, oh, wolf of darkness.
Release me. Let me be done with life,
This dark life of ancient sorrows.
I flee the night. I dread the day.
I can no longer struggle.
I seek only the darkness
And the quiet of the grave.
Let me sleep there forever,
Untouched, alone, at peace,
Distant from this hate-filled world.