It pains me to know 

My vivacity isn't burnished well

Under the bushes of my long-lost fantasies.

I found myself pondering on a stone

That perished from under my foot, it seems.

Oh, where has my life wondered to? 

Where was my passion? 

Death under the silver moon 

Coaxed me to realize what

Destroyed the wind's cornering 

Strikes.

I resented the sun and its

Shine on my sensitive integument 

And tore away the pleasures

That brushed through my cogent senses.

Everything bit the dust when I set afoot, 

On this desolate island. 

And maybe, perhaps, it'll stay that way,

For eternity and forever more,

Death now a key away from paradise.