I'm sorry.

[spoonhands]

A Dead Chronicle
2/25/07

Time is running away again
With that black mask on his face.
What did he steal?
A big bag of life
And several hundred smiles.
Set to meet
With a man named Fate.
His partner in crime:
The one who holds the ring.

Alarms are screaming,
Guards are beckoned.
The chase gives way.
Time goes left and
Fate to the right.
Rendezvous is a concept,
Not a coincedence.
Created by Fate
And set forth by Time.

Shots fly forth and
Shouts follow freely.
Time turns the corner,
Giving the guards the slip.
Startled by another,
Reflexes guide to the heart.
But alas, it's the heart of Fate.
A blade drive;
A frightful mistake.

Tears embellish eyes,
The dagger bleeds red.
Speechless air lays stagnant,
Tremors and shivers succumb both.
One for pain,
One for loss.
Remove the masks:
I am Time,
And he is Fate.