Tiptoed down the stairway,
The night was murky, a cursed moonless one.
The chill air brought a clank from close by
But I disdained to wince.
Sounds at mignight could no longer affright me.
It's about time, I wondered.
I knew 'twas about time.
I pulled the knife out from under my robe.
How long has it been there?
Perhaps since I decided to end it all,
To end my star-crossed life.
I walk to the mirror, the canvas where they paint beauty.
One last look at my vile face.
Hoped that it'd look dainty at this final moment.
It did not.
What I saw standing was a corpse.
My corpse.
I knew then, death's been my guest long back.
I yet breathed, but I did not live.
So how do you kill a corpse?
I tiptoed back up the stairway.
Laid down on the rug, slumber didn't take long to call on.
This corpse would wake up again the next dawn.