Dying
by: Livsky
Clock of time been wasted
On worries infested
Thinking over the thread
Of the illness inflicted.
A click of small hand
Will still remain
To call unto the Potter
On things that bothers.
Coming to an end
'Tis knees too bend
Calling unto you
'Oh hear below.
Asking for grace
'Tis life difficulty lays
Herein begging
To forgive everything.
