It’s Time To Die

The moon  

Unthreads

Its silk  

Runs red 

A crown  

Of lead  

Drops dead

The sky  

Unwinds

Its gears  

Decline

A rust  

Design  

Draws line

A clock  

With wings  

Breaks things

It sings  

No rings

Just endings

My shadow  

Splits

It sheds  

Its wit

A serpent  

Bit  

Through it

A door  

Of bone  

Appears  

Alone

It hums  

A tone  

Unknown

I step  

Inside

The walls  

Divide

A mask  

I hide  

Collides

A lantern  

Bleeds

It leaks  

Its seeds

They grow  

In reeds  

Of deeds

The mirror  

Glows

It bends  

My pose

It knows  

The close  

I chose

The past  

Turns sand

It leaves  

My hand

A ghost  

I banned  

Now stands

I burn  

Its sign

I cut  

Its vine

I claim  

The spine  

As mine

A spark  

Of ink  

Begins  

To think

It draws  

The brink  

In pink

I rise  

Through smoke

A sigil  

Spoke

The old  

Self broke

No joke

A new  

Design  

Rewrites  

My line

I cross  

The shrine  

Divine