What is that light we see
At the end of the tunnel
Of pretty iridescence and such
Swirled with blues and purples

I've heard not to step into the light
To stay away from it
But I have also heard to run towards it
That it is my release

I'm not sure I even want to
Run or walk
My legs feel of jello
And my sight of a foggy mist

How I came to this state of nullity
I do not know

Of course there is no helping hand
Or shoulder to lean on
Just this light at the end of the tunnel

I put myself here
Maybe that is why my cries
For help go unanswered

Yet I turn around to see
The looking glass portraying
The last moments of my life

As every drop of blood hits
The floor with every scream of anguish

You helped kill me











"Anyone can stop a man's life,
But no one his death;
A thousand doors
open on to it." - Seneca

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