I wasn't feeling too good when I wrote this, as you can tell... but this is the first draft of my poem:
A sliver of blade slices
A shimmer of solitary sinew,
Crimson diamonds trail the air
The air and no head there
The shadow of a gaze lingers
Where flesh fails and no fingers
Nothing to hold with, the space just stands
A space…
A space where figure formed stood
A place not occupied, a pool of blood
A face shines through the darkness
Flesh turns pale: hark, thus
A box beneath you, a skeleton
Your last pair of boots – Wellington
Traipsed in cherry streams
A world and life, not all it seems
See the hood hang over
A figure tall, no life lived
No – not at all
Travelling the world, from here
To Dover, a city to sleep
Over a few feet deep
Gaze down and hold solace
Life must end, as always
So look below and see
The fate of you and me.



You wrote this journal on my birthday... I hope you feel better soon. =(

I\'m sorry... :( I feel much better now thank you.