Without love,
the mind goes blank.
Without you,
the heart hardens.
Alone in this darkness,
the soul quakes.
As time passes,
the dreams turn to dust.
As friends are left behind,
the wishes are wasted.
At death's door,
the courage fails.
Now the skin tears,
that depression has come,
Now the blood drips,
that the Reaper's scythe has slashed.
As the last breath expires,
the mists of sorrow come forth.
As the movements halt,
the waves of weeping commence.
As this body withers,
the past is forgotten.
Now I am gone,
the peace hath returned.
Ettipus Community Member 
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