May scores of angles

The sickness escalates as
if the emptiness has grown
too deep for us to touch the bottom.

Every word feels like a dying breath,
as we closely follow trails, in step,
through these halls where death resides.

These locks upon our inner
strength won't concede
to your ability to fight to stay alive.

Before I could voice my last goodbye,
never to awaken in this life,
you closed your eyes.

A stir of echoes bears
a memory that I'd let go of long ago.

I've tried so hard
to wrap this feeling up in words,
to squelch these days that burn forevermore.

I can't believe this happens every single day.
Not one more minute will be sacrificed in vain.
I fight the feelings for these words that I betray:
To bleed every sickness from the world and all of its pain.