Demise

Winter night, the whole moon in sight
Yet I might be yearning for moonlight
Swathed in a stained sepia overcoat
There is a need for me to suffer blight

Stab, slap the sabre right into me
Still, I do not yet desire to be free
I plead ye do not slice my throat
Stab me, by the sea, in the knee

I implore, impale me a hundred
Rend my nails, make way for red,
For, I will use it to write a final note
Ignite it, it can never be read.