Nocturnal Illusions Pt. 2

Slept well with a story 

A tale gone array 

Slept soundly till morning. 

for my end was yet nigh.

in the tale was a vision

of past presents grown cold

or a future insidiously whispered

about the hand fate would hold.

restrained by a jacket 

and shrunken by quacks. 

eyes wide open and vigilant of these doctors

these hacks

these grim reapers with masks

fear creeps from my body. 

the shivers grow old

sin in a mask

is but a man with a soul. 

Death looks sympathetic 

but her eyes glare of hate.

she's had it out for me. 

my apologies to late.

A surgeon whose brow silver aged

an old man. 

prepared for life's very next stage

he gives a keen look of compassion at my weary young eyes

I feel the straps on my arms tightening.

I've since grown quite wise.

quite old in no time at all.

A needle in the hands of my executioner. 

she's knows my fate. she holds it in her hands.

I see a glass and behind it 

loved ones perhaps. 

friends and foes smiling and crying.

laughing and poking fun. 

wonderment.

estrangement  

a mother and a family. 

not my own I do not recognize one of them

 I feel truly loved by them

a cable between us.

a life line of fact.

a memory tarnished 

by betrayals and tact.

I see my three children

uncaring, unjustly.

no watery vision. 

 unfazed and unknowing

AN INJUSTICE

I too could not fathom.

it seemed like a dream 

 no tears came from my eyes.

 though I wanted to cry.

It became quite apparent now

that I was going to die.

 I felt it that,

 that prick! 

he pricked me. 

more then a prick.

 an injection 

no pain just frustration.

sweat from my face

 and blood from my arm slipping down.

 the feeling of death is a horrible one.

 I felt the poison through my veins. 

all around going to my head. 

the most peculiar feeling is that of death.

 it is like when you are expecting something.

 that rush.

 that tinggling you get when you hear something shocking. 

those goosbumps that grow on your skin like a virus . 

death is a rush .

 so passionate the feeling yet so depressing.

 the rush caught up to my head and I awoke. 

was this my death of the death of my past. 

was I a criminal , 

or a victim. 

did I deserve it? 

and for what reasons.? 

did my end justify my means. .