Wretched Deathtale

The sun has lost its lustrous charm
And the moonlight seems unreal
It is a mournful time of cruel self harm
In the flesh, where I most feel
My mindset is a halted twilight
Wedged in a limbo of thought
Does the tale end here, forgotten and minor
Or bleakly continue unhappy, unsought?

For far too long the sunset is still
And the blossoming plants haven’t grown
A boy stands alone on the top of a hill
Left is a dead-end but right is unknown 
In a stumbling rush I take to my skin
But I am devoid of the strength
With feeble valour the silver crawls in
I thought death to have answers, but to what length?

The sun’s flames quickly disappear
And moonlight is no more
My weak self harm means nothing here
This is death I am before
The twilight slips behind the peaks
Plants dry up alone
The story concludes, expectedly bleak
And the boy turns right into grasses unmown

So a dirtied subsistence lies cold in demise
My end is a dull wretched deathtale
The mark of my life is as freezing as ice
And my soul has been lost in death’s veil
Nothingness is peacefulness
My being is impaled
A sunken spirit is put to rest
It’s over, the test that I failed.