My death is in the hands of another.

Today was a day where no skin was dry,
Along with a blanket which never untied,
Don’t pity me she says, don’t pity me at all.
It’s her fault I swear, she helped me fall.

I begin to beg, I begin to plead,
Help I swear, it is all I need.

Ears begin to hear, but no they don’t listen,
Then with another night, my eyes surely glisten.
The anchor begins to sink and the rope begins to tighten,
Funnily for me, I’m not at all frightened.
The idea of death, it won’t ever get me down,
So when I finally begin to sink, I will let myself drowned.

-

R x