Farwell To This Masquerade Poem by tiyler durden

sitting alone in my room
Sitting and trying to drink my brew
This is all I seem to do
Is sit alone with my brew
feeling the warm, wet blood run down my arms
Thinking that my life never had much charm
The sweet coppery smell
in this tiny room, my cell
some may call me insane
but I truly feel no pain
as my life just slips away
I am super happy I picked this day
as the drowse and sleep fills my brain
I suddenly think I might be insane
But as my life begins to fade
I bid Farwell to this masquerade