Prima Facie

The rising sun pervades my fear,
The danger growing ever near,
The loss of all I hold most dear,
This future that is so unclear.

The midday sun decays my hope,
The strength that once could help me cope,
The will with which I scaled each slope,
That final strand of fraying rope.

The setting sun consumes my sight,
The cold embrace of primal fright,
The dim remorse of carnal blight,
This dark descent into the night.

The rising moon now lights my way,
The warm invite to come and play,
The words no mortal man can say,
That final glimpse of my last day.

The midnight moon invades my dreams,
The book of life ripped at the seams,
The shadows of those distant screams,
This door to hell that ever gleams.

The setting moon soon closes in,
The end of all I once called kin,
The paper remnants of my skin,
That bid farewell to mortal sin.

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