Slouched in front of the bathroom mirror,
Fogged from the heat of my desperate breath.
I look on as my world fades clearer,
More vivid, darker, as I inch towards death.
My heartbeat slows inside my chest,
A beating drum, brought still at last.
A prelude to deeper events at best,
My life, a spark put out too fast.
Arguments and words of hate,
Angel's grow hope from wings.
The world's rotation halted by fate,
The devil's voice, my name, he sings.
It's too late now, to bring me back,
Too far beyond the path of dark.
With only fear and solitude in my sack,
The cold wind blows out my candle's spark.
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Shiamaru Mishitari's journal
~A journal is where I will work and let my imagination express itself~
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