Burning, twisting, turning.
Coiled posed to strike.
The feeling in my stomach,
I feel it through the night.
Calling, pleading, and begging,
For help from my plight.
But no one seems to hear me,
Screaming for my life.
And so here the journey ends,
Though justly it was not.
Life is for the living.
And now I am not.
Burning, twisting, turning.
Coiled posed to strike.