The smell of death lingers in the air,
And whose door does it knock on,
But my very own.
Maggots spill from my mouth,
And crush beneath my bare feet,
And who do I have to blame,
But my own self defeat.
A storm rage inside of me,
And escapes from my eyes.
Let the rain cascade from these lashes,
And slip through the cracks of time.
A tired soul I’ve become,
As gravity you have won.
Embers is all I am left with,
To catch a flame in the dark.

M.STEIN