Lekon Lays Still Poem by Mahao Mokhae

The night is growing weary with the silence
I guess the winds are flowing colder, no compliance
The final shadows of you craining oh so endless, for... the Reverend
In the edges of you rushing on the pillars
Your soul, so severed
Visions of the necromancers never falter
Demons lurking on the edges of the alter
Screaming for your soul in the Hollow Other
The Heartburns blazing on your ever reddened pulser
Beeping can't deceive your ears on the second
Your time has come and even though you know it
You want another simple century of seconds
Talk to her about your fading final seconds
Hold her hands and kiss her soul for the sceptre
Hold her heart and kiss her mind for your centre
As your garnets end up leaking on your matress
You end up dreaming for her softened final caress
Your vision's growing hazy by the second... oh, it's your tears
The room of white is fading on your final premise
The flashes of your life are ending on the crevice
Your final breath is often always dissapointing
Them eyelids ever closing oh so slowly
Thee church bell dings are growing oh so distant...
Your hands are shaking in the turmoil of your fears, oh... Is LeTeer?
You want to kiss his hand and give a final caress
He will grow up with you absent in some seconds

As your final life is ceasared from existance.

*breep breep
*breep breep
*breep breep

'Hello? '
'*sob*heavy breathing'
'Mrs May? '
'Bailey *sob* he...

passed away*'

Your journey's just beginning.