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.