“Darkness falls upon my essence,
alone am I, miserable I feel.
Take me home, O' my Convalescence.”
I speak with my breath, I steal.
Where as the pit of womb, I'll rest my head;
I wait alone, cold and dead.
I contemplate my very being,
continuing my way without seeing.
I wait my trimester, day and night,
locked upon this old chattel.
I prayed with all've my might
and all seems but a prattle.
My body grows lame upon senescence,
but still no signs, O' my Convalescence.
Purge my heart and end my sorrow,
I regret my coming morrow.
End my pains, my foolish regrets,
end my fears, O' my Convalescence.
Manifest poignant of death's silhouettes,
and let it be, my final acquiescence.
O' where does my Convalescence lay?
I've searched my chamber, night and day.
I cried the night the reaper weary,
upon the morn, the day grew eerie.
Agonized pain aches my heart,
misery scourge, O' my essence.
Alone this journey I must impart,
alone, without my Convalescence.
Demented, I now may be,
death has shown no mercy on me.
That elusive thing the soul,
hath no revenge in it: as it is whole.
To be myself that is no longer,
hope abandon as time grows old.
In need of a dream to monger,
as my fortune foretold.
Narrate my life before me,
it importuned to see.
My misery affliction,
like staring in broken reflection.
O' where art my Convalescence?
A journey to the far ends of the Earth;
shattered and broken is my essence,
and I, fearing my never coming birth.
A birth to cease forevermore,
and the past behind me to bore.
Haunting me, O' my lunar luminescence,
abandon, O' my Convalescence.
What may be the chains upon me-
a burden upon life, now living.
O' My Convalescence now blind to see,
or of itself a new misgiving.
Not only does it show,
how twilight cease to flow;
but the cowering truth,
of myself now uncouth.
But I to be no longer
trapped in infinity of realms.
I, now a broken monger,
seeks to find my helms.
To guide my vessel through life's course,
through the journeys of endless bores.
Through the days and nights with bleak,
O' my Convalescence, the world I seek.
To find myself, born again,
and not be one, but two.
Atone for my many sin,
and things I never knew.
To patch the cracks within my dream,
widening the pass, it may seem.
Lost, O' my Convalescence,
and be fate's obsolescence.
A journey's race against time,
to find my heart's key.
To be worthy again of your sublime
and perhaps my day be free.
Such devilish things exist,
the evanescence of the morning mist,
the echo of my siren song,
the sour life of judgments wrong.
If I be guilty, hang me now
upon the gallows, oaken rot.
That it consumes my body, I allow,
whether Heaven is Heaven or not.
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