Melanoma.

A clock moving background
Smell of loss
Smell of death
Funeral of a joke
That was once set off
Knowing not its way to end
Committal of a smell
Of bodies unchained
From the grip of sanity
Holding on in spite of the time
Making forged promises
Creating spurious lies
Of a future undrawn
Of a carcinogenic dream
Of masks of vanity
And tears of lament
Of time turning like pages
Of a story untold
Remorseful enough
For never existing
Outside threads of some thoughts