My blood spills out and there is no crimson
sea, only inky depths that swirl and run
across the floor. My vision fades away,
the darkness closes in, and those last words
are eaten by my blood; blood that is my ink.
I have lived by words, I die with my words.
Hands reach blindly, searching desperately
for - here. The leather binding will be stained.
I'm sorry, dear friend, but I will hold you
until my breath escapes me and never
returns. My chest falls once, twice, but no more.
The spreading void slows, the other pages
spared from death. Silence reigns and my dark ink
will harm no one else. My friend, forgive me.