(thing) by blackwings Fri Aug 05 2005 at 16:25:21
I inhale, and a tiny demon creeps
Into the air, I hold, draw deep, release,
And from my open mouth my brief life seeps
And dissipates. I watch my days decrease,
As if with every outward breath I free
A wisp of soul, a part of me at peace.
A spirit, once so brilliant, now in me
Consumed in ash that from my lips now leaps
The fatal breezes of calamity.
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