The Book With No Story


Death Sonnet the First

If I may find a time to be within
And I want to know how to be always
In the forefront of the longest of days
In my time of dying I will begin

Innocent tears always flow down my skin
In my soul and heart and now it decays
Left to fall within all that I appraise
Light and darkness ever to my chagrin

If there was a way to wonder then I
Have no mercy for those that I defeat
Need to find another day to decry
Victory awaits your dying passion
Thoughts are lost and until now incomplete
If I persist in this I will defy