• Final Day

    The future left to be controlled by the minds of the young, not old,
    I sit here now as I was told; to venture out would be too bold.
    Silently I sit and I wait for a goal that may come too late,
    or may well not ingratiate, but rather set a sort of date
    to follow through this future here while I sit and wait, half in fear,
    of what may happen to my dear, my friend, my love, I long to hear
    the sound of her voice one last time, before they come to draw the line
    of my fate, shall then all decline, their acts anything but benign.
    A dreaded thought enters my head, which fills my poor heart up with dread.
    After all now that has been said, who's to say who will wind up dead?
    I hear them now coming for me; I do not try to run or flee.
    There's no point, but why oh why me? I've done nothing wrong, can't they see?
    Signaling the final hour, the once sweet clock chime turned sour;
    as they come, they'll have the power, death upon me they will shower.
    As the time draws ever nearer, gazing through the shattered mirror,
    it could not be any clearer, unable to hide my terror;
    in the end it will be my way of how my life will turn to gray.
    Alas my love, I'm sad to say, this is to be my final day...