Poem about a life destroyed by CFS

Boiling magma of melted bone,

bubbling down into hell.

Painful cracks scar the land,

puss drips in my shell



Dead is the last of the whales,

made out of my hopes and dreams.

Harpooned by a shattered future,

marooned by the CFS theme.



Rotting is the sky and moon,

even the asteroid is filled with maggots.

White hot is the scalding rock beneath,

and time itself, rots.



A rainbow catches fire and cries out in fear,

but there is one to hear but me.

My journey has ended at the wrong destination,

my Ocean of peace is empty.