Words

I hate saying this, but here I am
As I finish singing my play before you all
Now I relive memories I wish to ban:
Words, lines, note… the night's cold call.

Pause… cellos will cease, alas.
The mace will crush as the choirs chant
These're words no one shall ever touch
No matter how much the devil may want.

One of the last poems of the lost child
One of the last worlds to fall down, down
This is the last wish to come 'round the rim
Until the very last angel will drown…

Words, there is so much left to say
I might leave it all this day…
It could all have gone the other way…
My lost song, chord – the poet's last play.

Darkness engulfs us all, licks the sin.
In anguish, fear, despair, infected within.
I dreamt at times of a bigger win…
It proved to be all lies so dim…

- deep within…
- in the sin…

…where the poet cried his last song
before you... all.

Where I cried my last words to this world…