Although I bid farewell, the furies still swell.
You, in my heart where my soul does dwell shall there dwell.
It's all so like me now, but will be more,
When both are just ghosts, an apparition, no more.
Tattered, I will return with my hands torn
From the ragged oars here taken me mourn.
My face sunburned with lips so swollen tight
Will ingrain itself in your memory's light.
My body just a bag of bones, crushed to dust within,
With resting below, the remnants of skin.
If I died before I woke, you would say,
'Does he not know what he's left today?'
Will it reach my judging mind?
To know nothing of my kind
Will become your curse, and love less
And ingrain now the beaten lifeless
Into a single epitaph of anything enough
To weather through tear and tough.
 
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