Doom looms on the horizon.
The last sliver of the sun sinks into shadows.
My leaves will turn to dust.
And I will be whittled down to my bare elements.
Sapped of my light.
A cold, twisted beast stirs within.
It clogs my bones.
My fingers weep.
So cold inside.
Skin feels like it's on fire.
Kind of like getting microwaved, I guess.