It is now the beginning of the end,
A finish that I have known for so long.
There is no reason, only rimes which lend
And mend our existence, 'though we are wronged.

The sky is weeping. I do see the tears
And have known the moors; there's no more I need.
Belief comes creeping. Sentence, I do fear.
When the fog there lures, my wounds shall not bleed.

I do fear every mirror, for they,
My maggots, howl with laughter, others weep
For yesterdays dazed, years sorrowed, and may
Put me away now in my coffin. Peace sleeps.

There, I have spent minutes; knowledge is gone.
My blank verse does rimes and drags me along.