Setting Sun Poem by Patrick Villareal

On my knees; I surrender the setting sun
My hands clutching the dirt; there's no where left to run
I watch this beautiful light over the horizon
Slowly dying as the black void widens
The cold winds press against my worn face
Rippling my clothes in this disease riddled space
Cliff side where the grass cannot grow
I utter silent memories of my water flow
Memories that only the dead may hear
Memories kept alive by thriving fear,
Senseless hope as the warm sun goes away
Ushering an era of silence; breaking the day
Kneeling, I watch what was left of me set with the sun
Like a bullet pumped in my chest from a smoking gun
There's no where to hide as I must abide
To the charming devil inside.
I take his hand.
Darkness approaches soon
As I must give into the rising moon.