I lie,
here in my tomb.
It's dark,
here on my own.
The dirt,
between your world and mine.

But I'm weak and powerless.

I breath,
here in my grave.
It hurts,
clawing at the wood.
The air,
holds potents of my doom.

And I'm weak and powerless.

I fail,
here in my hell.
It's a nightmare,
here in my coffin.
The nothingness,
that confines me forever.

I lay here weak and powerless.

01/13/2004

Author's Note: Deadringer: Position held during Medivial times. When plumbing came, England used lead pipes, which caused lead poisoning, which looks like a coma. They would bury people. Some time later, exumming graves, they noticed bloody scratches on the roof of the coffin. Afterwards, when they buried someone, they left a hole for a rope, tied to a bell. The gravedigger would come to the sound of someone buried alive, thus, they were a dead ringer.

Posted on 01/13/2004
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