My Dying Words

Life isn't life
Anymore
I pose a fake smile
When my heart is torn

I live with a yearn in my heart
I live to breath only to try a new start

The time I have placed
In my hands
I swear it's as if my dreams
Were built out of sands

Of beauty of love and Heaven to meet
Of lonesome doves and blackbirds of grief

The slightest touch of warmth, of comfort
The right words, the gentle whisper that is never rushed

Of lying days in the winter
Of dying souls that slowly disappear with their whimper

Of lying along
Under the Sun
Of lying there
All alone

The flower in my hands
Withers away
The petals are gushed
With the cold, cold wind

These are my dying words
The heart you have torn
The death you have sentenced me upon
And the soul that is being, like a corpse, burnt