MAP #1: I Wrote This Under The Tree

The Death Bed

I silently sobbed as I pricked out the thorns in my heart,
My eyes were swollen, completely gone the pieces of art;
The throat were achingly-scorching led to couldn't speak,
Head in deep pain and mind was playing a different trick.

I couldn't move a finger, totally ill,
Heart in trouble, no more to feel;
Stomach twirling in a way of suffering,
I already accepted my fate this black evening.

I closed my eyes and took a one-last breath,
I met a man, so-called father of death,
When morning came I was found dead;
Lifelessly lying on my tortured bed.

-Marxx Archer