Grey chairs&ballet halls.

This disease is eating me from the inside out;
Am I doomed ?
Alas, the world is the place that is going under !
Not the black cloud that looms over,
Threatening to rub me out with it's acidic downpour.
Your eyes abhor me,
Resting on me like voids of nothing,
Drawing me closer to a cynical coma.

Don't touch me with your icy breath,
Your foul skin, cracked and rough,
The silky smooth exterior you once held broken.
Your tongue is a silver flute,
Speaking words of wisdom to my tainted ears,
Feeding the child that yearns inside.

No longer will your arms hold the world,
A new light shed through the veil of unknown,
The blindness lifted from my scraped out eyes,
Rusted holes from the sanctity of your being.

Drop me.
My wings will catch the space below.