Death Comes Quick

Dead are the friends so close

Even more lonely do you feel

After your think of you pain,

Thinking in vein

How do I get out, you suppose

Can assassins survive, they must

Otherwise, they have to disappear

Make a life, built on fear

Ever vigilant, mind ever clear

Sometimes, they must.

Quarantine your bleeding heart.

Unction you may speak

Imatations done by you are weak

Cauterize my wounds with the fire we seek

Kaolin are you made of when we’ve been apart

*Unction = Kind words

*Kaolin = Fine white clay used by sculptors