It struck me silly suddenly.
In foreign lands was I.
A crushing weight upon me,
wondrous why oh precious why.

I forged on through this scrutiny,
so desperately escaping me,
the Reaper of grim truths,
the Bearer of "good" byes.

He stood there tall and short.
He looked there all around
with his prying eyeless eyes.
His blind sight always seeing,
the deepest deep insides.

A reconnaissance-
living admonshment,
protesting us to blame.
A trial of our wits,
mine of ours less divine in this surly game.

Draining all vitality,
lost or gained?
Only of changing chances,
silenced by the silent.
Shamed by the shameful.
Hiding with the hidden,
only ever to be found.

Running on time long gone,
running away from me and you,
right past the evil.
A left at my conscience,
leaving it behind.
Farewell my fallen friend,
woe for you,
and woe for I.

I stepped up golden steps,
at least I'm told they used to be.
Melting in this heat,
this fire shall so drown,
in cursed memories,
burnt to charcoal now.

I escaped your tragic heart.
It ached too much for my taste,
was too deadly for me.

I don't see it on your face though,
I can't read the death lurking inside.
You hide it well, you know.
Or maybe you don't.
So I won't tell you what I found,
what you'll someday have to find.