There, lies the poison in no other than a shot glass. Before I drink I look into my killer's eyes, take a moment to breathe, and at last...I drink. For he does not know poison is not what kills me, thus it is the mere, but yet faint and ideal fact of not the poison, but of the pain and heartbreak it's self that kills me. As poison rushes amongst my veins, and through out my entire body, it is him that I think of. He with his bright blue eyes, embracing words, inhabitable thoughts, and all of this wrapped tightly within camouflage with a rank.

He, the one that I love is all that I merely seem to live for. With he my life no longer miserable, no longer in solitude for my insanity, no longer will I wait to hear his sweet, savoring and fragrant words again, and by the grace of God will I no longer cry those dreadful, sorrowful, but yet meaningful tears that I have cried for him. Thus, within he... I am free. In moments I realize that I do not grow weak, for I grow stronger, more powerful, more so than I ever have been! But yet, with this power and strength, I do nothing but long to be wrapped within his soul.And so, as my eyes begin to close, i think to myself, " how Wonderful Thou Art!"