WhaT dOes THoU tHiNk oF my PoEm

My head is a rock,
Sinking to the bottom,
Like a thundering wave.

My muscles are weary,
Creaking, shifty as a door in the wind,
I hear them sigh and give up

My skin is parched,
Asking for a nice bed,
Veins yielding, begging for a rest

My eyes are ready,
Ready for sleep,
Ready for that promising leap

Alone in my room,
With dark velvet walls,
Welcoming me as a long time guest.

Finally,
I am free,
Free to do what I wish.

This haven,
This peace,
It can only be death.