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I strum thy harp, realizing you greaten my faith, basking in your splendorous grace. Following the rhythms I go, not realizing the pain that will follow. Strumming thy gallant strings, fire consumes all living things. As blood runs down your dark base, I feel no living thing inside this place. The light slowly leaves and darkness follows, felling a presence that causes fear, with that fear I play faster not realizing that it will lead to disaster. My White gown drenched in blood. The harp grows louder with each strum. As I fight for control, my fear then takes hold. The fear makes my heart beat faster. As thy gallant strings turn red, my heart fills with dread. Now pictures of death go thru my head, making me think of living dead, -tick—tock goes the metronome. Beating to the tune my heart doth go. Causing the strings to sound louder.
As tears go throughout my skin, my hand begins to thin.
My hands slowly stop playing as blood leaks from my head.
I hear a noise from behind me.
I turn to see my body lying right beside me.
And yet I start to play,
I can’t stop playing; I see blood run down my beautiful harp.
I realize I am dead.