By Ian Anderson
I imagine flowing waterfalls in my head, all connected by string and twine I see the water dance as I leave this world behind. This world was fun until my time was done now all I see are empty black pools full of water; no reflection just pain and slaughter, as I pay with my life when I jump into the abyss of black. I let my body turn to ash for this time tomorrow at dusk I shall be nothing but a puddle of murky water. Black as day.