darkness sounds the silent toll,

no cause my own that I am fearing,

shrouded from the pale glow.

.

Underneath me are crickets,

mechanical multitudes,

chirping in clangs and grinding rivets.

.

Mercy spills on a stone,

inked in blood,

desperate idleness.

.

Now below the willow tree,

The light is gone for me to see.

.

Beside me you lay,

drugged in lies and pity,

dead as my mother before me,

slain in like manner.

.

Fluid oozes from you,

dried remnants remaining,

foolish conduct.

.

Now beside the willow tree,

Light dances on your apathy.

.

Inside me is everything,

fucked in conceit and bile,

dead as my mother before me,

slain in like manner.

.

Nothing runs from me,

not even you,

wishful thinking.

.

Falling forms are now deceiving,

Shadows bent and twisted 'round,

Nothing more than shallow breathing,

You don't even make a sound.

.

Now above the willow tree,

There is no more for you to see.

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