And the dark hands of desire
Slip slowly between the withered cracks of mire
As the ebbing pain lulls for another day,
The mercy of a beguiling pain
Slips eccentrically away..
The torture of morbidity
Rests faintly on an absent end
Yet this fatality remains,
Quietly replacing such asbent demise
An angel slips by,
to eloquently relinquish this respite.
But the pain in this vein slips softly away...