I can sense it.
It's tired, and old, and terribly cold.
It's still there, but its thin and weak.
It isn't that it doesn't try,
but like the whispery skin of one who has aged
It simply can no longer endure...
The last tear has fallen,
The last drop of blood has spilled...
I have nothing left...
All is ghostly...
It is closing it's eyes, perhaps for the last time...
It's sad, but almost sweet to see it go...
It was so fragile, so weary...
There, there, let it all fall away...
Be at peace,
With blood no more...
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