Days I sit and dream to think
Of days I shall not live to breathe,
Of tales that I dare not speak
Before my bones are left to thieve.
To think of no more stars to count
Or wishes upon them made.
What life this is, it could not amount
Of a perfect imperfection left to fade.
To never taste the sweet romance
Of a perpetual lover's kiss.
Before a fated arrow can fall to chance,
Or even strike not me, and miss.
When this existence may take leave of shore
Fleeing as our ocean's tide.
To destine towards a land of nevermore
On this edge I stand,
And choose to defy.