This may be my last hour,
Nothin sweet and sour,
For my life to fell apart,
For my soul to depart.

Long lost remains,
Have nothing to explain,
Showering stones that fell,
Have nothing to tell.

Writers write stories,
With myth and glories,
This story is incomplete,
As labelled as my defeat.

I cry, I cried in the dark night,
My last is tonight,
My soul left to unite,
Some things to rewrite.

To which i create,
From nothing to great,
All lies are covered,
No truths were uttered.