I’ve come to the end of my days

My little short fuse of a time is to fly

stopped searching for the cave in which it lays

 

all my sorrows, where the last tears are drawn from 

where all the pictures of the past have lost their smile

where the black ink has started to dry 

 

It is but a scissor I need to cut off this red 

To let it breathe with a new breath so fresh

To paint it a new tear never to be shed

 

But the cold water that lies beneath the sand 

it is to rise above, to climb, and withstand

It is to steal my dreams of visiting the celestial land

 

Help me god, let me grab your hand 

Before this whisper of fear is caught by one’s ear

Let it be my last breath released into the air

 

Let me leave you in peace, be the dead man that is all but dread 

Let me be a harmony and you the testimony of my absent quiver

Let me show you my happiness where I can finally forgive her

 

Let me be the full stop of this dreadfully long sentence filled with horror 

Let me grab my binoculars and become an explorer

Of what is unknown, for it could be the restorer 

 

Let me hang this soaked black coat, so the ache can be wiped away

Become the dessert where it is always sunny, bleached, and gay

Be the fearless golden spirit that is to fly today