401st Post
Drifting.
In and out of consciousness.
Breathing.
Getting shallower and increasingly difficult.
As the lungs get filled with blood.
No more strength left inside.
No more mental reserves left inside.
With each beat of my dying heart.
More blood leaves.
As the flesh slowly grows cold.
My mind slowly turns blank.
No more memories.
No more pain.
Just a cold lifeless shell.
In some desolated dark corner.
