My Way

I can see,
Plain as day,
The black pathway.

The way,
I must walk,
No time to talk.

A path,
Of knives spirals,
Of life and lazy whiles.

Hand,
In hand,
Death and I walk on the sand

He says,
Stay here,
I'll return, my dear.

So I,
Sit down,
In this sorrow town.

Fifteen years
I have,
Sat here, I have.

Sit with me,
Up the black path,
Warm yourself by the hearth.

Wait for me,
I'll follow the road,
And carry Death's load