When you were dying, I was dazed yet ambushed.

We were fusing, and I got cold feet.

Who knew I wasn't cunning, firm, nor merciful of your love.

The content was only in text, and a dial was abundant.

But you came to my aid, and I blackballed you.

My impression was some day, yet my consequence was prevailing.

And I knew I could not mourn until I have revived you.