Fairwell

 …Soul is detaching…

…Breath is scratching…

…Pulse is catching…

…Blood is dispatching…

…These wounds tattering my body are so soul-snatching…

This life is broken…and my last words hurt when spoken… 

I will not be awoken… 

Death is my only token…

My last tear is shed…though you fail to witness it because it mixes with the rain overhead…

I watch you bow your head…because you know in any second…I shall be dead…

Departing with a soft smile I cleverly misled… 

Dying with a grin when my heart is cut of the final thread… 

My very last will was to leave you believing everything was fine instead…of merely this innocent pool of red...

"Boy oh boy, the price of freedom is steep..."