The Last of My Days

I am locked inside a box

inside this secret place

beneath the many, many rocks,

the same ones that float

through all of outer space.

I’ve tried to find my way out,

but all I’ve found here is doubt.

And no such luck on any hope,

my dreams are already lost

in a world entirely unknown.

It has been hundreds of years

since I’ve inhaled a fresher air.

At least, it has felt as so. Though,

I imagine only a few have actually

gone by, since last seeing you go.

I do not know where I am,

or whom I have since become.

All I know is that I am different,

not like most, or at all like anyone.

A ghost, perhaps… No, that is wrong.

I am nothing, not something.

The world around me is spinning, spinning.

The blood and sweat upon my forehead,

is no longer there as I am plainly dead.

And I can see my spirit dying, it’s thinning.

What shall I ever do? I’ve not an idea.

Perhaps I should let myself go,

lose what hope I’ve left and float.

Get into the boat and row myself away,

into a world unknown; of outer space.

And perhaps fly from tomorrow to today,

go back in time to save what was yesterday.

The day of my death, that is, my past.

And, at last, I may finally rest in peace,

for the last of my days, for an eternity.