(I'm not happy.)
He was dying, yes he knew.
He couldn't breath anymore, yes that was true.
His hands shiver like he was frozen in snow,
And as the days continue, he knew he had to go.
He scribbles in the notebooks and examines all pages,
Looking at everything he wrote all his ages.
It was just like yesterday, he was strong and powerful,
Now he's just a memory, stuck here, all sorrowful.
If only he could turn back time, back to the old days.
Yes if only he can, maybe he won't fade away.
But now there's no time, yes time is running.
Just a few minutes before he gets going.
"But I'm not happy." He utters his words.
No, you don't need, just get killed by the sword.
This life is unfair, yes it always has been.
Maybe it's all measured by how great were his sins.
His unsheathes his blade, and looks at it glint.
Thrusts it forward, it was red in a blink.
He thinks a minute."What about my family?"
They will understand because I'm not happy.