Tiptoed down the stairway, The night was murky, a cursed moonless one. The chill air brought a clank from close by But I disdained to wince. Sounds at mignight could no longer affright me. It's about time, I wondered. I knew 'twas about time. I pulled the knife out from under my robe. How long has it been there? Perhaps since I decided to end it all, To end my star-crossed life. I walk to the mirror, the canvas where they paint beauty. One last look at my vile face. Hoped that it'd look dainty at this final moment. It did not. What I saw standing was a corpse. My corpse. I knew then, death's been my guest long back. I yet breathed, but I did not live. So how do you kill a corpse? I tiptoed back up the stairway. Laid down on the rug, slumber didn't take long to call on. This corpse would wake up again the next dawn.