Death Sentence

This storm shall never cease,
It consumes and consumes, never satisfied,
It will see that I am removed entirely,
My taint shall be scrubbed from this plane,
This storm has proclaimed judgment, found me guilty,
Now it becomes an executioner to annihilate and cleanse.

I give myself over now, no thread bare hope left,
The last of me frays, slipping, wearing away,
Would that I could cleanly snapped and be done,
Perhaps that is too kind a sentence for one as me,
I shall wear away, buffeted, drowned, stoned and burned,
Until finally I am simply no more, gone.

I believe the skies will clear on that day,
The sun shall finally grace the space I once occupied,
The moon’s silver cast will someday dance here again,
The air will be cleaned of my foul scents,
All those touched my the mar of me shall slowly return,
That is the only solace I have left to me as I gladly fade away.