Living for the end of life,
Draw your own last breath.
Living day to day just for
A life inside of death.
The death that comes not suddenly,
But slowly like a pain.
Living life so horribly,
Like a ball upon a chain.
Without sound and without light,
The spectre comes to stay.
Stuck no more in this life of pain,
Move slowly on your way.
This poem was created by Justin Heiner and is copyrighted by laws pertaining to the Internet. No part of this poem may be copied in any means whatsoever without the expressed permission of the author.