The clock hand , my only companion, Tichs agonizingly away the hour. What feeling is this? “Betrayal”, comes the reply!
Let your voice once more
Appease my tormented mind! As these final breaths I take, for death is all there’s left to embrace, The image of your hand in that of another, Is all I’m left to suffer!
Death is longed for , Lord! Not to live to bear this truth!
